


Klancetober2020

by Insomniac_with_dreams



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All seasons honestly, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Angel and Demon, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Flowers, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gen, Halloween, Keith Loves Lance (Voltron), Klancetober 2020, Lance Loves Keith (Voltron), M/M, Magic, Modern AU, Not really though, Post-Canon, Rain, Soft Keith/Lance (Voltron), Your Honor they're Married and in love, keith's knife, lots of AUs, okay maybe more angst then i remeber, royal au, slight angst, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 26,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27114334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniac_with_dreams/pseuds/Insomniac_with_dreams
Summary: I'm not dead if anyone was wondering. I have not abandoned any of my fics, I've just been devoting a lot of my time to my boy Keith, ( also the next chapter of Blinding Lights has been a royal pain in the ass.)Anyways! Enjoy these little stories for Keith/Klancetober!!
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 29





	1. Day 1: Cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead if anyone was wondering. I have not abandoned any of my fics, I've just been devoting a lot of my time to my boy Keith, ( also the next chapter of Blinding Lights has been a royal pain in the ass.)
> 
> Anyways! Enjoy these little stories for Keith/Klancetober!!

“You my dear, are sick.”

Keith groans as Lance swoopes down on him, brushing his bands away from his face and pressing a blessedly cool palm to Keith’s forehead. He bats Lance away as his hand lingers, rolling over and pressing his face into the couch.

“M’not sick. Tired.” his words are mumbled into the cushions, and okay he can admit that his stomach rolls grossly and his head pounds. That doesn’t mean he’s sick though! 

Lance chuckles and pries him up just enough that he can slip onto the couch with him. Keith goes willingly one he realizes that Lance is trying to pull him into his arms.

“You are sick, but lucky for you I have the perfect medicine.”

Keith’s nose crinkles and he cracks his eyes open to glare at Lance, “I’m not taking any medicine.”

Lance laughs and presses a kiss to his hair, “No baby, the medicine is  _ me. _ ”

“You? How is that going to help? I feel like I’m gonna puke. I mean if you're here to catch my puck then great.”

Lance laughs again and it rumbles through his chest into Keith’s. “Keeeiithh, you’re awful. I’m here to cuddle you sweetness. Not a better medication out there.”

Keith’s cheeks burn, still unused to Lance’s love of pet names, especially obnoxious pet names. Another kiss is pressed into his hair, right at the crown of his head and lets himself go completely lax in Lance’s arms. Keith presses his nose into Lance’s neck, his clean cupcake smell slight enough that it calms him.

“Think I can help?” Lance asks trailing warm fingers up Keith’s back pressing firmly against the knots that creep up Keith’s spine. Keith groans again, his mouth feels dry, and he’s hot, but he feels safe and warm. Held safe against Lance’s chest.

“Yeah. I think you can. I still might puke though.”


	2. Day 1: Red

It’s on his hands. 

It always has been, in some way. 

Red.

Crimson, and bitter. Leaving the top of his mouth sticky and his tongue feeling heavy. It smells like iron, strong and overbearing.

He was used to it by now. 

Blood.

More used to it then he thought he ever would be.   
  
  


His mom's knife is sharp. Wickedly so, and Keith learned that the hard way when he was small. Sitting on the floor by his dad's wardrobe a makeshift step stool of books toppled over by him. The knife had been on top of it and he had been determined to get it. It slipped on his decent back to the floor and cut cleanly and deeply into his palm.

He didn’t cry at first, just dropped the knife to the floor and stared at the crimson blooming across his hand, dripping over the side and plopping onto the floor, in nice little circles. Only when his dad poked his head into the room did Keith start to cry, holding his hand against his chest and smearing his yellow shirt.

His dad had scolded him as he cleaned the cut.

“Knives are dangerous Tiger. They are not to be handled lightly. Your momma left that for you when you get older.”

Keith nodded, rubbing a hand across his eye, peering down at the wrap his dad was securing in place.

“I never gonna touch a knife again papa.”

That was a lie.   
  
  
  


Eleven, and he’s alone, angry, and confused. He’s tired of this, of people discarding him, so he ran away. Again. And this time he might be his last.

He’s backed in a corner, and the men are drawing nearer, throwing sneers at him. He has his knife, his mother's knife, clutched in his hands.

“Listen little guy, you just have to give us back what you took and we can all go about our day.”

Keith shakes his head gritting his teeth, “I didn’t take anything from you. T-that guy lied. I’m not a thief.”

The man growled reaching for his belt and undoing it, “You’re a child, but you’re making it real hard to let you go.”

Keith knows the bite of a belt, the sting, and he knows that this man won’t hold back, he’ll beat him until he can’t get up.   
  


“I didn’t steal anything from you.” his voice is shaking and the men are drawing closer. One flanking the man with the belt sneers at him, a wicked cruel thing, half a smile. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the set of keys that Keith is being chased down for. He drops them onto the ground.

“Oops, looks like I found them.”

Keith lunges, his body moving before his mind. His wicked sharp knife cutting through pants and flesh. His hands get covered in dark splotches and his feet slick in pools of it.

Crimson.

Not his own this time.

And that’s worse.   
  


It goes on. 

Fights in climate controlled hallways. Blood pouring from his nose. The other kid looking worse.

Training mishaps with Shiro. Shiro apologizing, while holding his own blood behind his back.

Crescent moon shapes in his own palms.  _ Patience yields focus. _

Iverson’s blood, he hadn’t meant to make him bleed. 

He starts to hate the color. Hates red. It means pain, and blood, and dry unforgiving dirt. It means the little animals he has to kill in order to survive.   
  
  


He wants to vomit, feels bile rise in his throat, as the lion drifts towards him, pushed by Allura’s hands. Red. Him, red, blood, pain.

Volatile. Temperamental. 

Yeah. Sounds about right.

He’s bitter, he can admit that, as he runs through a Galra ship anxiety coursing through him. He’s panting against the helmet. Trying desperately to feel what he had felt for Blue. It wasn’t there, nothing was there.   
  
  
“You gotta be kidding me!” Another dead end. He’s panting hard now, tipping his head back as if that will somehow alleviate the ache at the back of his teeth from his sprinting. He squeezes his eyes shut.

_ Patience yields focus. _

He feels it then, it’s exhilarating.

It feels nothing like Blue, but exactly like her.

And he feels drunk.

It’s terrifying.


	3. Day 2: Name Tattoo

“Do you know how terrifying this is?” Lance is laying upside down on the couch, his hair inches from Veronica’s bowl of ice cream. She scowls and moves it away for the  _ fifth _ time. He moves with it and she finally drops it to the floor and turns to stare at him.

“Lance, what exactly is terrifying about it? You got our first tattoo when you were sixteen!” She talks loudly on purpose, hoping that their mother will overhear. Lance sits up waving his hands.

“Hush! Do you want mom to ground me!”

“You’re twenty one.”

“Still!"

She throws her hands up, “I don’t understand why you’re freaking out over this. Just go get it done and then go on with your life.”

Lance frowns at her, “Getting the tattoo isn’t terrifying, it’s what the tattoo is.”

Veronica scrunches her nose and swats Lance’s hand away from her unattended bowl, “Well the last time I saw it, it’s tiny and simple. It’s not that bad. Stop being a baby, you said you wanted to get it done before Keith was back home. This,” she wiggles her fingers at his sprawled form, “Is not getting anything done.”

Lance sits up snatching the bowl and shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his face. He sticks his tongue out at her after.

“Where did you come from? Like seriously. All of us are romantics to our marrow and then there you are.” Lance says licking the spoon and then pointing it at her. Veronica rolls her eyes to the heavens and offers a silent prayer to the ceiling gods, begging for mercy to be relieved from babysitting duty.

“It’s called looking at reason, and understanding not everything is sugar and roses. Kind of like your boyfriend.” Veronica says, “ and what does any of these have to do with you apparently being terrified of a tiny tattoo?”

Lance sighs, and puts the now empty bowl on his lap. She was going to have to get him for that later. 

“You’re right, the tattoo is tiny, and very simple, but it’s Keith’s name. I’m putting his name on my skin. It’s terrifying because I love him enough to not even have doubts about whether or not this is a bad idea. I just, I can’t believe how much I love him.”

Veronica’s face softens a little and she reaches up to squeeze her brother's knee, even if he did eat all of her ice cream.

“That was disgusting Lance.”

He kicks at her and she laughs before sighing, “ Disgusting but I guess I can see now. That is kind of a big deal. I think it is a testament to how you want to be with him forever, I think that's sweet. I also think he wants you forever as well.”

She looks up and blanches at Lance’s trembling lips and glassy eyes. Veronica is about to ask if she said anything wrong, but then Lance is throwing his arms around her.

“Veronica! You aren’t adopted after all!”

She pushes him off, grabs her bowl and goes to refill it.

Lance is wearing a tank top in cold fall weather as they drive up to the airport. He’s buzzing with excitement, running ahead of them all before his nerves catch up to him and he comes slinking back. Veronica can see goose flesh crawl up his arms, but the tattoo is on complete display. Sitting like a birthmark on Lance’s right shoulder. The letters of Keith’s name curl softly and Lance explained that the handwriting was Keith’s late father.

They see Shiro's large form first. He’s squeezing through the crowd of people towards the baggage claim, apologizing when he bumps into people, even if it isn’t hard. Lance is hopping up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of this shorter boyfriend, before waving at Shiro when he catches Lance’s movement.

Shiro retrieves his suitcase, which is plain lucky, and jogs over to them. Lance looks ready to break several laws and go find Keith at this point and Shiro smiles at him.

“I ditched him, he was still waiting to get off the plane. I might take him a while.” Shiro says easily, sinking into a chair to wait. 

Veronica watches Lance bite at the corner of his lip.

“Shiro,” his voice is nervous again and Shiro looks up. Lance shuffles closer, “I uh, did something while you guys were away.” 

Shiro's, immaculately done, eyebrows raise and he puts his phone into his pocket. All of his attention is on Lance now, in that steadying way that rattles Veronica sometimes.

Lance shows him the tattoo, and Shiro's mouth drops open.

“No way,” He breaths and Lance looks ready to keel over.

“What! What’s no way? Shiro, do you think he’ll hate it? Oh god he’s gonna hate it!” Lance is delving into hysterics and Shiro rushes to comfort him.

“No! No it’s just,” something over Lance’s shoulder catches his eye and he smiles that easy smiles. He points and Lance turns around.

Keith is flat out running towards him, a neck pillow slipping from around his neck and his hair a tornado. Lance lets out a gasp and braces himself to catch the flurry that his boyfriend is. He does so with ease, Keith wraps his legs around him, and presses kisses across his face.

Veronica looks away letting her brother have his reunion. Shiro the little shit is holding his phone up, definitely recording it. 

Keith finally stops his assault on Lance’s face but he makes no move to leave Lance’s embrace, dropping his face against Lance’s neck. Shiro stands up cracking his back.

“I’ll go get your stuff Keith.”

Veronica has to sit there and listen to her brother talk nonsense into Keith’s ear. Only when Shiro returns with Keith's tiny suitcase does he let go of Lance and support his own weight. Lance’s nerves return almost immediately.

“So uh, Keith. I-” Keith steps back, a look of alarm on his face.

“You're not proposing are you?” Keith looks genuinely alarmed, and Veronica’s eyes narrow a bit. Her brother had done something that cannot be easily undone and if Keith is freaking out about a proposal then maybe Lance did make a mistake.

“What? No. I,” he gestures at his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut, “I got a tattoo of your name while you were gone, and I used your dad's handwriting from the letter.”

Keith just stares, from Lance’s shoulder, to his face and back again. Lance cracks an eye open after the silence has gotten stagnant.

“You hate it don’t you.” Lance’s voice is quiet but Veronica can hear the underlying pain in his voice. She’s ready to throw hands with Keith right in the middle of this airport, but then a single crystal tear drips off of Keith’s black eyelashes and trails down his cheek.

“Keith,” Lance reaches for him but Keith shakes his head, wiping away the tear. Then he’s fighting with his hoodie. The dangling neck pillow falls onto the floor and his black jacket soon joins it.

He’s wearing a tank top in fall weather. Veronica can see the goosebumps climb up his exposed skin.

On his left shoulder, written in their mother's undeniable hand is Lance’s name.

Driving home, Shiro sits shotgun asleep against the window. His phone is clutched in his hand from where he had been telling his husband they had landed safely. Lance and Keith sit in the back, shoulder suppressed together, hands intertwined, faces still stained with tears.

“Just to let you know, I’m proposing first.” Keith says, and Veronica grins. 


	4. Day 3: Blue

His converse are sky blue. Hanging over the rail he's perched on, dangling over dirty concrete. They’re what drew Lance, a stark splash of color among his grey and black attire. That and the boy himself. He’s here every Wednesday, or at least that’s when Lance notices him. Sitting in the same spot, wearing the same beat up converse, reading some book or watching the world go on around him with earbuds in. Lance doesn’t have the nerve to talk to him, he just watches, watches and wonders.  Lance looks forward to Wednesday and he thinks his friends notice too. Rolling their eyes or sending him knowing looks when he tells them he’s going to the park after they study. He walks away, his ears red, but his chest filling with hope. He wants to talk to him, he can’t just keep referring to him as Blue.

As per usual the park is all but empty. Little kids all gone home, and skater kids grown bored. He’s there though. Feet swinging, blue converse looking a little dimmer today. Like he had stepped in every puddle that was left from the rain that night. That gives Lance a pause, just imagining Blue hopping in puddles, blue canvas soaking with grimy water the owner of them being fine with it.

Lance slumps against a tree. He wants to talk to the boy, more than he had wanted anything in a long time, but there was something about him, something quiet and thrilling, that had cowardice rearing its ugly head in his chest.

He sits on the damp grass just him and Blue.

He notices more and more the boy, his shoes, the way his hair is clipped back with a purple hippo clip one Wednesday, his eyes sweeping the pages of a book. Blues shoes are clean the next time lance sees him, but the rubber parts are drawn on with blue sharpie. Little aliens and UFOs, robots of some sort.

His friends tell him he should talk to Blue, and he should. He could, so easily. Walk up lean on the railing and say something shallow that would hopefully get those eyes on him and Blue’s nose wrinkling. Blue is quiet though. All soft pages turning and rhythmic thumping when his shoes occasionally hit the concrete as he swings them.

So Lance waits, tells himself the Wednesday will come.

And then Blue stops showing.

The railing is glaringly void of a boy in blue converse.

Wednesday after Wednesday pass, and Blue isn’t there. The world fills a little bit darker without that pop of blue a little too silent without Blue's loud silence.

“Maybe he just went to a new park.”

“Maybe he moved, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Maybe he’ll be back one day.”

His friends were wrong, it was a big deal. A huge deal. Lance had missed his chance, but he was determined to get it back, determined to see Blue again.

They start looking for him, asking around, making posts describing him and asking if anyone knew who he was. Lance made flyers as silly at it may seem, and plastered them anywhere he could.

Nothing. For weeks. The railing stayed empty.

Then Lance got a call, his heart beating out of his chest. A man, Shiro, asks if Lance can meet him at the park and Lance agrees.

A tall man is at Blue’s railing holding a box. Lance approaches him cautiously. The man smiles at him and it’s ringed in sadness.

“Hi Lance, I'm Shiro, Blues brother.” Lance shakes his hand and tries to keep the tremble subtle, tries to downplay his excitement.

“I-it’s nice to meet you, uh is Blue with you?” He sounds hopeful and desperate. Shiro's eyes flicker with something so deeply wounded Lance is taken aback. Shiro offers him the box and Lance feels his blood run cold.

He takes it and opens it. 

Laying delicately in tissue paper, like they were brand new, are Blue’s beat up sky blue converse.

  
It seems so final, but still Lance looks up at Shiro with questioning eyes. 

“His name was Keith, and he got a pair of blue converse because they reminded him of someone's eyes. Your eyes.”

“Was?” his voice is gone, barely a whisper and Shiro's eyes fog with tears.

“He’s gone. He died a few months ago after a long battle with cancer. I’m sorry Lance.”

Lance reels. His heart breaking, his mind denying, realization slamming into him. He had been too late. He had waited too long, let him, let  _ Keith _ slip through his fingers. He’s crying himself his tears drop heavily onto the canvas reminding him savagely of the rain puddles. He lets Shiro, a stranger pull him into a hug, crushing the box between them. He hadn’t ever talked to him, and barely caught his eyes, hadn’t offered enough smiles, but he feels like he lost something vital.

There is a note at the bottom of the box and Shiro directs him to after he pulls away from him.

“He wanted me to do what you did so I could find you after he was gone. The note is for you, I haven’t read it.”

Lance hates himself as he unfolds the paper. It has the seal of the local hospital in one corner doodled on with more aliens and Lance allows a wet, weak laugh to fall from his lips. It’s written in blue ink a simple sentence:

_ You made me love the color blue, and all the wonders that come with it. _


	5. Day 4: Magic

Keith takes the stairs two at a time, and if he wasn’t so full of happiness he would cast something that would get him to his room faster. He won’t chance it though, the spell would probably send him out of the building and to who knows where because he is just  _ so happy _ . He passed the test with flying colors. HIs and Lance’s long nights full of books and coffee and stupid sleep deprived spells had paid off, and now flying off the adrenaline Keith is ready to storm into his room and kiss Lance’s stupid perfect face. He’s going to do it.

Their landing is there and Keith doesn’t bother with the stupid spell to open the door. He pulls out his knife, slices it quickly against his palm and shoves it against the worn wood of the door. It takes a while and Keith dances in place until finally it creaks. Keith shoves his shoulder against the wood and stumbles into the room.

“Lance! Lance I-,” He freezes and takes in the room around him. Their sheets are pulled off of their beds floating up to the ceiling. One end arches up into an A frame shape, like a tent. They aren’t the standard white anymore. They're dark blue and purple and black. Swirling with cosmos and stars. So many stars. The room is dark and a few warm candles float in drippy procession around the darkest corner of the room. He hardly recognizes it.

And standing in the middle of it, brown hair gold and purple from the lights, shirt untucked halfway like it always is, sleeves rolled up strong tan arms is Lance.

Keith drops his bag off of his shoulder and stares around the room in unabashed astoundment. He steps forward and then back almost as if he’s afraid it will all disappear. His eyes fall back to Lance. He’s smiling, softly, his cheeks slightly pink.

“Lance? What is this?” Keith’s voice is a whisper, it’s odd when normally their room is loud and bright. Lance smiles sheepishly and rubs his hand across the back of his neck.

“It’s uh, it’s for you.”

Keith’s heart tumbles and his stomach flips, “For me? H-how?”

Lance laughs, used to Keith’s odd bluntness and lack of articulation when flustered. So he holds out a hand, motioning for Keith to take it. He does gingerly and Lance leads him into the tent. His breath catches again. Someone had put a small space expansion spell on one of the sheet walls and it stretches to mimic a theater screen. A movie Keith has seen a thousand and one times is waiting to play. The floor is littered with blankets and pillows, some Lance’s and some Keith’s. There are bowls of food mixed in the throng and oh, Lance is talking. Keith tears his eyes away from the array and back up to Lance’s face.

“So yeah you can choose.” Lance isn’t looking at him, but off in the direction of the other side of the tent. Keith reaches out and brushes his fingers across the back of Lance’s hand.

“Lance, why did you do this for me?”

Lance looks at him, catching his lip between his teeth, “Have I not been obvious?” Keith must have looked confused because Lance laughs, all soft ripples and rolling grass. He turns and takes both of Keith's hands in his, locking him in place with his gaze. “I am head over heels for you.”

Keith stares and then laughs, warmth spreading through him, he squeezes Lance’s hands in his own. “Head over heels? Really Lance, that’s cheesy.” 

Lance is sheepish again, his eyes flickering in the twirling lights, “I figured you’d appreciate the difference in which I used the words this time. No more falling down the stairs.”

Keith is literally spilling with joy, his cheeks hurt from his smile, and he has no words, so he leans forward and captures Lance’s lips with his. Lance makes a surprised noise, but then his hands are slipping from Keith’s to pull him more closely against him. Keith sighs into the kiss trying desperately not to let his smile get in the way as he wraps his arms around Lance’s shoulders.

It’s Lance who breaks the kiss first, leaning his forehead against Keith’s and grinning like he did when they were first years. “You gotta stop smiling babe.” 

Keith blushes up to his ears at the pet name and hits Lance’s chest playfully, “You’re smiling too idiot.”

Lance swoops down to press a kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth in lieu of answering. Keith can fall back into it, wants to but Lance is pulling away more fully now, pulling his wand from where it was tucked into his waistband and lowering the flickering candles to almost nonexistent, with a practiced flick. Lance is glorious with magic and this is the perfect example.

“So, you never answered my question,” Lance says as he turns around again replacing his wand. Keith wants to kiss him again, but he resists the urge.

“I uh, actually didn’t hear what you said. I was a bit mesmerized that someone would do this for me.”

Lance smiles with all the softness in the world pulling Keith closer, “I would do this for you in a heartbeat.”

“ _ Lance _ , you have to stop saying things like that!” Keith groans. Lance squeezes him again and Keith can feel him laugh.

“Nope. No can do, you are going to just have to deal with it. You are going to hear how worth it you are every single day. But for now, would you rather watch a movie or star gaze?”

“Star gaze,” Keith breaths and follows Lance’s soft promptings to the pile of pillows. He’s delighted that Lance’s worn jacket is among the items on the floor and slips it on after discarding his school jacket. Lance settles next to him and draws his wand. With a quick flick the screen is gone. Lance takes a deep breath and points the ivory tip of his wand up.

“ _ Star spangled banner _ ,” his words are quiet but full of magic. Magic Keith can only ever dream of possessing. He looks up and stifles a gasp as the room rounds out and seems to stretch for eternity. Stars appear in a splash of light. When he looks back down he isn’t on the floor of his and Lance’s room anymore. He’s floating, weightless almost as the magic settles around him.

“Lance,” it’s barely a breath from Keith’s lips, but Lance turns to him, blue eyes alight against the stars.  _ Lance’s  _ stars, and his stars.

They settle against each other, eyes on the stars and hearts on each other. 

After silence for a while Lance turns to Keith who is nearly asleep against Lance's chest.

“What were you going to tell me earlier?” Lance’s voice has a new timber to it, when Keith’s head is on his chest. He hums and cracks his eyes open.

“Oh, I passed the test and I was ready to burst in here and tell you how much I like you. You beat me to it though.”

Lance kisses his temple and the room is so still and the stars are so close, and Lance is here, and Keith has never been happier. 


	6. Day 4: Rain

It rained the first day of September. Clouds rolled in over the mountains and the forest fell silent in wait of the deluge. There was far off thunder that rumbled once, twice, three times in warning before the clouds split open and rain fell. 

It must be cold outside Keith thinks, leaning back on two of his chair legs to peer out the single window in his bedroom. He can’t help but smile, rainy days in his mind are better than all the sun in the world. Especially out here. Where the dark pine forest becomes damp and alive. Green bleeding darker as the needles get wet. Keith can’t wait to go foraging after the storm passes, to find all of the new growth.

“I brought you tea.”

Keith looks back towards his door, smiling at his husband who leans against it with a steaming mug in his hand. Lance smiles back, pressing a kiss to Keith's forehead after he’s crossed the room and putting the mug next to Keith's computer.

“Have you gotten anything done?” Lance asks eyes sparkling and looking grey against the rain sodden day. Keith sips from the mug, his mouth tingling from what warmth. He shrugs, and no, he hadn’t really. His cursor had been blinking at him for the last hour stuck in the middle of a word that he can’t remember.

“No, not really.” Keith says grinning and Lance rolls his eyes. He grabs Keith's hand and tugs him out of his chair.

“Come on. Spend the rest of the day with me.” Lance says pulling Keith out of their bedroom and into the warm living room. Lance had lit candles, the room smelling of cinnamon and vanilla, smelling like them. A record rolled round and round on their record player letting out the soft hum of the vintage music Lance coveted. He’d even opened a high window that required them climb on a counter to open. It let in the soft sounds of falling rain and the clean fresh smell that only rain can bring.

Keith sighs, content in their little A frame, far away from life even if it’s just for a little while. Lance lets go of his hand and starts to put on his shoes. Keith raises a brow smoothing a hand over Lance’s back.

“What are you doing baby?” 

“Uh, do you really think I’m not going to go outside and play in the rain?” Lance sounds absolutely offended and Keith laughs, going to hunt down his shoes as well.

The rain is cold when they step into it, but it smells like pine and petrichor and Lance’s sweet smelling flowers that grow under their windows in a chaotic garden that got out of hand last spring. 

They tip their heads up against the downpour, their smiles catching the drops. Lance breaks away from him hopping carelessly into puddles, his laughter echoing around the trees and back to them. Keith joins him, the rain soaking heavy into his clothes and down to his bones and it should be freezing. It is freezing, but he has Lance with him and Lance is a roaring fire against the cold.

They stay out until the rain starts to taper off and Keith’s hair is pressed flat against his face and his ribs and abdomen hurt from laughing. They’d started a precarious game of tad, and Lance was groaning on the ground from where he had slipped in the mud. Keith can’t stop laughing at him bent over at the waist. Lance grins evilly at him as he gets up and Keith shrieks as he charges towards him. Keith isn’t fast enough and Lance wraps his arms around Keith pulling him against his chest.

He squirms and laughs till he can’t breath trying to get away from Lance as he peppers kisses across his face and rubs mud into his hair. He finally goes lax against Lance and Lance turns him around so they’re chest to chest. Keith smiles at him, pressing Lance’s wet hair out of his eyes revealing his forehead and eyes. 

“You’re so dirty,” Keith laughs, tracing the streaks of mud that run down Lance’s cheeks. Lance kisses him in return and it’s kind of gross. It’s wet and tastes like dirt but Keith lets himself fall into it.

“You’re just as muddy as me now,” Lance says as he pulls away. Keith can’t really find it in himself to care, especially not as the clouds break over the trees, catching Lance’s eyes and turning them cerulean. Keith looks back at the golden sun filtering through raindrops making them shimmer opal as they fall.

Lance touches his chin and Keith looks back at him. Lance strokes his cheek, wiping away the raindrops that fall like tears from Keith’s eyelashes. Lance smiles at him, so soft and sweet, dimples popping from his cheeks. It feels like something from a fairy tale. Gold falling as water around them, and the world frozen as a silent bow to the rain.

“You’re so beautiful Keith,” Lance says, and Keith drops his eyes. Lance knocks his chin back up, his smile still in place even as a knot forms between his eyebrows. “I’m serious Keith. I don’t feel like I tell you enough.”

Keith swallows his chest bursting with love and warmth enough to fight the cold seeping into his bones. “I’m covered in mud and I probably look like a drowned rat.”

Lance tosses his head back and laughs wrapping his arms tighter around Keith and all but crushing him to his chest. 

“Oh you definitely look like a drowned rat, but you know what? You’re still the most beautiful person in existence and I am so lucky to be rolling around in the mud with you.”

Keith sighs into Lance’s warm neck, “You know I don’t know whether to be insulted or not, and let me tell you Mr. Kogane, you look like a literal angel, always.”

Lance hums, flicking at the mud caked on his face with a grin, “Aw thank you sweetheart, now let's go in. You’re shivering and I feel so gross.”

The rain picks up again after they are settled on the couch, clean and bundled close to each other. Lance falls asleep against him and Keith smiles pressing a kiss to his hair and watching raindrops trail down the window pane.


	7. Day 5: Blade

Keith’s knife is sitting on the floor of the training room, which, okay, fine, but Keith isn’t attached to it. This is what has Lance pausing and staring with his mouth going slack on the straw that had been clamped between them. He turns in a slow circle to see if he just missed the black haired boy, but no. He’s alone in the room with the knife. It feels wrong to him, that the knife isn't on Keith, because it is  _ always  _ on him. He even sleeps with it, Lance knows from experience. So it’s weird and wrong to see it, but then again Keith had been acting strange ever since he found out he is half galra.

Lance avoids the training room for the rest of the day way to weirded out. He figures Keith had probably reclaimed it after he realized his prized possession was missing, but then Hunk scoots his chair close to his at the table. He’s wringing his hands and looking like he just saw a ghost.

“Hunk, what’s wrong?” Lance asks, putting his spoon down somewhat grateful that Hunk is distracting him from whatever barf Coran was forcing him to eat. Hunk looks at him with wide eyes.

“I think something is wrong with Keith, you will not believe what I just saw in the training room.”

Lance frowns, “His knife?”

Hunk nods vigorously, “Yes! But he wasn’t with it!”

“He still hasn’t come to get it?” Lance says mostly to himself but Hunk makes a noise of concern.

“What do you mean?"

Lance waves him away, actual concern filling him. He hadn’t actually seen Keith at all that day either. He stands up despite Hunk’s questions and protests.

Lance jogs down to the training room, passing Shiro and Pidge who are talking about something to do with lions and shields. He pauses outside the door convinced that he’s going to hear the clang and rattle of Keith kicking the training bot’s butts. When he peers in though the room is empty, and sure enough laying exactly where it had been earlier is Keith’s knife.

Lance stares down at it, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. Maybe Keith doesn’t know where it is and that’s why Lance hasn’t seen him all day. He chews his lips and taps his fingers in the inside of his jacket pocket before shrugging. He bends down and grasps the knife gingerly.

It’s heavier than he thought it would be, the blade dipping slightly in Lance’s grip. The handle is worn into the shape of Keith’s much hand and the wrap around it is fraying at the edges and browning. Yet despite the areas of use, the blade is immaculately taken care of. Lance doesn’t even bother getting his fingers close to the edge and pancs a bit about carrying it out of the training room. 

He grips it awkwardly praying that he won’t drop it and heads towards Keith’s room. Lance walks painstakingly slow, holding the knife like it’s a dead animal or a snake ready to strike at him at any moment. He feels like he’s holding a part of Keith a foot away from his body, a part of Keith he has no business holding and he hates it a little.

He half expects Keith’s room to be empty, but when he knocks on the door it slides open. Keith stands in his doorway looking worse for wear. His form is hunched, his eyes are heavy with bags and his hair is dull.

“H-hey Keith, uh I brought this back for you. I figured you’d misplaced it.” Lance says moving the knife slightly closer.

Keith stares at the blade with tired eyes and shakes his head, “I don’t want it.”

Lance laughs, “You can’t be serious man. Of course you want your knife.” But then he sees Keith's face and his laughter petters off, “Oh. You aren’t joking.”

Keith wraps his arms around his stomach and shakes his head before turning back into his room the door sliding shut behind him.

Lance sputters, “Wait! What am I supposed to do with it now?” he gets no reply and if Lance were the same spiteful person he once was he would have tossed Keith’s stupid weapon out of the garbage disposal, just to be funny. The knife means a lot to Keith though, and right now he’s going through something. So Lance sighs and keeps the knife. He’ll try again tomorrow he thinks as he lays it delicately on his bedside table.

He moves it away from his bed thirty minutes later after laying in the dark and thinking.

Lance’s genius plan to get Keith to take his knife back the next day is thwarted when Keith starts avoiding him, no not just him,  _ all  _ of them. He’s frustratingly good at it, and Shiro ran a hand down his face saying something about hide and go seek under his breath.

After the second day of Keith being little more than a shadow they all start to worry. Allura even seems slightly concerned even though she had been giving Keith the cold shoulder since the revelation.

Hunk worries he isn’t eating enough.

Pidge worries he’s gonna leave.

Shiro worries he’s gonna do something stupid.

Lance worries because an item he loves still rests collecting dust on the chair in the corner of Lance’s room.

Finally after three days of Keith barely existing Lance is ready to put a stop to it. The few times Keith appears for mission briefings and such, he looks exhausted and thin. The paladins all try to talk to him, Allura ignores him.   
  
Lance trails after him back to their rooms and ducks into his own to grab Keith’s knife. He hides it behind his back and knocks on Keith’s door.

“What do you want?” Keith asks as soon as he opens the door. Lance shrugs smiling at him.

“Can I come in?” He asks. Keith looks him up and down before shrugging and disappearing further into his room.

Lance follows and tries not to be too concerned over the pristine shape of Keith’s room. The only thing that even shows someone lives there is Keith’s bright red jacket that hangs on the wall. Keith stands in the middle of the room with his arms crossed and his eyes on the floor, Lance stands there awkwardly with him as well. Lance isn’t going to be offered a seat so he brings the knife out.

“Why don’t you want it back Keith?” he asks bluntly, because Keith just responds better when you say what you want to flat out.

Keith’s eyes the knife, “Because it reminds me how selfish I am. I can barely stand to look at it.”

The disgust in his voice makes Lance wince and he still doesn’t understand at all. “What do you mean?”

Keith looks down his arms tightening around his stomach and his hair falls in front of his face like a curtain.

“During the trials, I wouldn’t give it up. If I had then,” he breaks off. Lance cocks his head.

“Wouldn’t give it up?”

Keith nods his hair flopping, “Yeah. The blade wanted me to give it back, they thought I had stolen it.”

“You didn’t though right?” Lance asks, and Kieth looks up at him sharply.

“No! My dad gave it to me when I was five!”

Lance bobs his head, “Okay well then there is no reason to give it to them. That doesn’t make you selfish.   
  


Keith looks defeated again, “No. I was only thinking about myself if I had just given it to them then none of this mess would have happened.

Lance looks down at the well loved knife. The frayed edges, and cracked grip. At the care Keith obviously puts into it, the clean surface of the blade and it’s razor edge. It reminds him of his jacket. The one he’s wearing right now. It’s frayed, and worn, and Lance had cried when one of the pockets wore completely through. Every night he would check it over for any spots needing cleaned or repairs that needed done, then he hung it with care on the wall.

“Keith, does this knife mean a lot to you?”

Keith nods after a few seconds. That’s enough for Lance, he reaches out and takes Keith’s wrist, putting the knife in his palm. Keith’s fingers close over it naturally, and Lance swears he sees some tension bleed from Keith’s shoulders.

“It’s not selfish to want to keep things you love, no matter how temporal. I’m pretty sure I would have fought several specially trained soldiers if they wanted my jacket. You aren’t selfish, and keeping your knife is fine.”

Lance isn’t expecting Keith to hug him. He throws his arms around Lance’s neck and buries his head against Lance’s pulse point. Lance hugs him back, because he is not missing this golden opportunity. He ignores Keith’s little sniffles even though his heart breaks a little bit over them. 

He finally pulls back wiping at his eyes, “Thanks Lance.”

Lance stuffs his hands back in his pockets and nods, his cheeks feeling warm, “Oh yeah of course, Honestly that thing is terrifying, I’m glad I won’t have to deal with it anymore.” They stare at each other for a minute before Lance rocks back on his heels, “Welp, uh see you around.” he turns to leave but Keith catches his hand.

“I’m serious Lance. Thank you.” Keith says it so sincerely that Lance aches. He smiles at the ravenette.

“I’m serious too Keith, you deserve nice things.”

He feels warm on the walk back to his room, and this time he lets it settle over him completely.


	8. Day 6: Music

“Do you play?”

Keith jumps, his fingers jerking off of the dusty ivory keys he had been running them over. Lance stood in the doorway of the parlor a hand on the doorframe and his best clothes straight as usual.

Keith dropped his eyes and laced his fingers together looking down at the floor.

“I am sorry for touching it my lord.” he shouldn’t have, he knows better. But the piano is gorgeous. Dark, glossy wood that shimmers in the afternoon sun that streams in from the west windows. It hadn’t been played since Keith had been hired, and it tempted him everyday when he cleaned the parlor or even when he walked by.

Lance laughs and peers down the hall before walking closer, “That isn’t what I asked Keith.”

Keith shivers when Lance says his name, stepping aside as Lance brushes past him. He sits on the bench in a flurry sliding a bit on the dust. He poises long fingers over the keys and Keith holds his breath. Lance has the perfect hands to play a piano. Lance laughs again and it has an easy air to it as he turns to Keith.

“I can’t play at all. Once I could play a nursery rhyme, I’ve all but forgotten how to know though.” hes whispering, a grin stretched over his face. “None of my mother's tutors could get me to practice.”

Keith isn’t sure what to say, “Uh, I’m sorry my lord."   
  
Lance waves him away and scoots to the edge of the bench patting the space next to him. Keith blanches, taking a step back, his ears feel hot. 

“My lord, it is not appropriate for you to fraternize with the serving class.” And Keith knows it will mean his dinner and perhaps his job if they are found out. Lance’s eyes soften and he turns away from Keith.

“There, now it is like I am not even here anymore,” Lance messes with his cuffs, crossing his ankles and looking pointedly at the other side of the room. Keith wants to laugh at that, Lance’s presence can feel an entire room he can’t just pretend he’s not there. The piano though is tempting and it’s been at least three seasons since last he played. He tells Lance so as he gingerly sits on the bench next to him. He swears he can see Lance smiling out of the corner of his eye.

Keith sets his fingers against the keys and thinks off all the tunes he can play. All the songs he would listen to sitting under some rich ladies window. Normally the music was accompanied by a warbling voice that would destroy the piano beneath it. So Keith made his own music, clanging around on the old church piano until something sounded good. 

Keith takes a deep breath, finds the pedal with his foot and begins to play. It’s easy to fall into it, easy for his fingers to dance up and down the scale, his foot moving minimally across the petals. His eyes slip closed and he thinks  _ Lance.  _ Lance with his caramel skin, and brown hair that his attendants can never get to lay flat. Lance with his cerulean eyes that can go cold instantly in the face of cruelty. Gentle, good, kind, Lance. Lance who sits here with him now, Lance who he loves. Try as Keith might not to, he loves him. 

Keith plays what his heart holds for Lance. He plays the song until it ends and then plays it again. The piano feels alive under his fingers and the sound bounces off the walls of the parlor.

Keith isn’t sure how long he plays. How long Lance sits there next to him, but when he opens his eyes he freezes. The room looks more shadowed, and the bucket of cleaning supplies still sits on the floor by the chair he had placed them on to admire the piano. Keith swallows thickly, dropping his hands and turning to look at his lord.

Lance is staring at him, his blue eyes large and round and wet. Keith watches in horror as a tear drops from Lance’s eyelashes and slides down his cheek.

“My lord,” Keith whispers and against his better judgment reaches up to wipe away the tear with trembling fingers. Lance catches his wrist as he goes to pull away. Pressing his face into his palm. Keith’s breath hitches when Lance turns his face and presses a soft kiss to Keith’s palm.

“My lord?” his voice is weak now, his heart pounding in his chest with adrenaline and love and fear. Lance presses another delicate kiss upon his palm.

“Lance,” Lance says, “Please. Call me Lance, my heart breaks every time you call me lord.”

“Lance,” the name feels right on his tongue, right falling from his lips in gentle tones. “Why are you crying?” another tear had escaped, and Keith wipes that one away as well.

Lance’s lips part, “Never have I heard the piano sing in such a way. Never did I know that music could read the heart.” another kiss, this one to Keith’s wrist, “And never have I seen someone play as you do.”

Keith still can hardly breathe, and how is he expected to when Lance’s lips caress against his skin in such a way.  _ Lance’s lips, his skin.  _ Keith jerks his hand out of Lance’s grip.

“No. We can’t do this my lord. Y-you should not sully yourself with such as I,” Keith stands abruptly and Lance scrambles up as well. He grabs Keith’s elbow as he bends to retrieve his bucket.

“I do not sully myself Keith. How can you think such a thing of yourself?” Keith doesn’t look at him and he feels Lance stiffen, “Are my affections not returned? Have I made you uncomfortable?” He sounds so worried and Keith feels so desperate, but he turns away all the same, biting his lip.

“No. Your affections are very muchly returned, but it is not appropriate. I have to go now.” he walks briskly to the door ignoring Lance’s protests. As he’s about to disappear through the door Lance calls to him one last time.

“Your music was my love for you Keith! Everything I feel for you, you played on that piano!" Keith squeezes his eyes shut. He hears Lance approaching and feels his hesitant hand on his shoulder, turning him around. Keith looks at Lance, at the pleading in his eyes at the small smile on his face, the crease between his eyes.

“I have never felt this way about anyone else Keith, this you must understand.”

Keith feels tears fill his eyes, because Lance has never been so close while being so far.

“And I love you Lance, but it is not,  _ can not _ , be.” Keith’s voice breaks at the end of the proclamation that had stuck like a marble in his throat for so long. Lance draws nearer to him, presses their foreheads together, their lips scarcely a hair's breadth away.

“I care not for what may happen. I care only for you.”

“I would be endangering your life. You could be killed for being seen with a man and especially a man who is a mere servant. I can’t risk your life.”

“But you love me!” Lance’s voice rings desperate down the long hall that stretches down to the dining hall. 

Keith’s tears spill over, “Yes! Yes I love you! But we are the sky and sea Lance, I can never have you and you can never have me.”

He tears away from Lance not turning back this time. Lance doesn’t follow.

The piano collects dust again, and no more do the halls of that great manor ring with such declarations of love.


	9. Day 9: Royal

They are both drunk. Sitting outside in the garden, leaning against one of the many marble benches that litter the area. Lance’s head is lolling, his long neck on display and Keith stares unabashedly at the tendon’s that work every time Lance swallows. The display has his mouth going dry, had him reaching for the dwindling wine that was left sloshing lazily in the bottom of it’s long bottle.

They had fled the party after an excruciating hour and a half of socializing and awkward conversations with their dates. Keith had nabbed the wine and then Lance, heading straight out of the palace doors and to Keith’s favorite hide away. The slightly overgrown willow garden. It was old, but like to night the moon reflected off of the swan pond perfectly.

It’s more perfect now Keith thinks. Now that Lance is sitting slumped with him in the dirt with zero regard for their clothing. Lance’s pretty eyes unfocused from the alcohol, his smile lazy, his body lax.

  
“Hey Keith?” Lance slurs, rolling his head towards him, Keith jerks his eyes from Lance lips to his eyes.

“Yeah?”

Lance smiles lazily, “I have no intention of marrying duchess Marie.” Lance looks all too proud of himself for stating that fact. Keith starts to giggle, it’s not funny at all, but in Keith's alcohol heavy mind it’s hilarious. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hopes he won’t remember then conversation in the morning. 

Lance is giggling with him, and reaching for the bottle of wine. Keith pulls it away playfully, before realizing it is in fact, empty. He tips it upside down to demonstrate this fact to Lance, who pouts. Keith giggles again, tossing the bottle away. He swallows the thick feeling building on his tongue and turns to look at Lance.

“I also have no intention of marrying Elizabeth either, poor girl. Don’t think she even likes me.” he mumbles the last part, but Lance is already laughing. He scoots closer to Keith and grips his face in both hands. Keith makes a noise of surprise as Lance pulls him closer.

“Well duh dummy. You don’t even like girls, and besides I,” he’s interrupted by a hiccup that both of them giggle at. “ Anyways!” Lance says his voice louder than before, “I love you already so you can’t marry anyone and neither can I.”

Keith’s smile falls off of his face, and he suddenly does not feel drunk enough, even though he is  _ definitely _ way past buzzed.

“Lance, what?” his voice is strained and his hands grip Lance’s shoulders. Lance’s face also darkens and he shrugs.

“I said I love you.” Lance lets go of his face and sits back. He looks miserable now, and Keith wishes they had saved the wine. “I love you Keith, have for awhile.” he smiles a little sadly at the ground, “and I know you don’t feel the same. It’s okay Keith, it’s not like we can have each other.”

Keith’s brain and heart finally seem to kick into action and a flurry of emotion is dumped on his head.

Joy, sadness, fear, _ joy. _

He reaches for Lance and grabs his collar far rougher than was necessary, and smashes their lips together.

It’s a horrible kiss. Teeth clank hard enough to hurt, they both taste like wine, and Keith is all thumbs. It empowers Keith though, filling him with warmth as Lance moves their mouths together. Keith tears away panting, unsure anymore if the fog in his brain is from the alcohol or from  _ Lance _ . He keeps a hold of Lance, a hand gripping the back of Lance’s neck to push their foreheads together.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m not in love with you. As if I haven’t loved you from the first time I met you.” Keith scoffs softly.

Lance laughs clear and happy, before slumping against Keith.

“What are we going to do?” Lance whispers and Keith squeezes his eyes shut, he wishes Lance would shut up and let Keith hold him, but Lance doesn’t shut up. “We’re both princes, we have our family lines to carry on, hell I’m expected to be married by the end of April, and you.” he trails off and Keith wraps his arms around him.

“I don’t want this Keith. I want you.”

Keith understands, he doesn’t want what's been offered him either, he wants Lance.

Neither of them say anything and they both slump down onto the ground, the chill of the night soaks through Keith’s clothes, but it helps clear his head. He wishes, as he wishes for many things, that they were both sober during this.

Lance is nearly asleep when the party finally ends and the guests start to leave. They should probably have been there to see the guests off, but Keith doesn’t care. He shakes Lance fully awake and they stumble together through the halls of the palace towards the guest chambers. A few maids stare wide eyed at them but Keith sends them a glare he’ll be guilty about later, and they drop their eyes.

Keith pulls off Lance’s shoes and jacket and belt after sitting him on his bed. Lance doesn’t protest, even as Keith tucks him under the covers like a child. He bends and brushes their lips together again and Lance sighs.

“If you remember this in the morning, let's elope,” Keith whispers against his lips. He feels Lance smiles.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Keith says.

There’s banging on the door of his room before the sun has risen in the morning, when Keith throws it open Lance is standing on the other side. A bag is slung over his shoulder, he’s in jeans, and his phone is clutched in his hands with flights that have already been booked.

“I remember,” he’s breathless as he says it.


	10. Day 10: Morning

It was in their dining room, with soft morning sun spilling across their honey colored table when Keith first told Lance he loves him.

Lance was always the first out of bed, unless Keith kept him from leaving with complaints of the cold and an inviting embrace, but today for some unknown reason Keith had followed him out of bed. The kitchen was warm and sunny, and Lance felt his spirits color the same gold. Keith is far less jovial and far more pouty as he follows Lance around with a hand grasping the hem of his shirt. He splasters himself to Lance’s back as he reaches up to get coffee for himself and tea for Keith. He laughs at the extra weight, reaching back to run a hand through Keith’s sleep mussed hair.

“You can go back to bed baby. I don’t even know why you decided to come with me this morning.” Lance says turning to peck a kiss on Keith’s cheek. 

Keith snuggles his face into Lance’s shoulder in return, his hair tickling Lance’s neck, “ I wanted to be with you this morning.”

Lance’s heart melts and he plants another kiss to Keith’s cheek. “ I want to be with you too sweetheart, but I can’t really do much if you’re clinging to me like a koala.” He puts the beverage mixes on the counter and turns around so he can hug Keith properly. Keith sighs not even bothering to return the hug, just slumping into Lance and letting him hold up his weight. Lance chuckles, “Come on Keith, you can sit at the table. I won’t be long.”

Keith clings all the way until Lance deposits him in a chair at the table, which Keith promptly slumps against. The wood is warm from the sun drizzling on it in honey tones from east facing windows.

Lance pauses to admire Keith in the light, in their kitchen, soft from sleep. His hair falls in sparkling black waves across his cheeks, but masses together in the back. It’s going to be a nightmare to brush out, and Keith will once again threaten to cut his hair.

Keith’s skin looks like cream, and Lance wishes his eyes were open so he could see the light turn them from dark purple tourmaline to soft light amethyst. 

He turns away though keen to get their breakfast started, keen on getting Keith back in his arms.

The kitchen is quieter than Lance normally has it, but Keith’s presence fills the space that the sound of Lance’s music normally would, and Lance prefers it. He can hear all of those morning sounds, so different from the rest of the day. The bright buzz of a bumble bee zipping around Lance’s butterfly bushes right out the window. The birds starting up their songs, the world coming back to life. 

It’s so quiet that Lance jumps when Keith says his name. It sends currents around the room, soft ripples, water against a shore.

Lance turns to him. His eyes are amethyst and he has a halo of golden light around his head.

“Yeah?” Lance asks, and Keith smiles.

“I love you.”  
  
Lance drops the egg he had been holding, it’s stupid because he knows Keith loves him. He sees it everyday in all things that Keith loves him, but he also knows Keith has a hard time saying it. He’d prepared himself to not hear it for a long while. 

Tears are filling his eyes and he drops down to clean up the smashed egg. Keith is there before he has the chance to touch the slimy substance. He grips Lance’s wrists lightly, pulling him up and Lance turns his face away.

“Lance? Did I say something wrong?”

Lance shakes his head, reaching up to wipe away the tears that leak from his eyes he laughs. 

“No. No you said nothing wrong.”

“You’re crying,” Keith points out, reaching up to clear away the tears that remain or drip stubbornly from Lance’s eyelashes. 

“Happy tears Keith. Very happy tears.” he smiles up at his boyfriend, “You love me?” he says it teasingly, but Keith nods in all seriousness.

“Yes Lance. I love you, you deserved to hear it from me a long time ago.” Keith’s voice goes soft in the way it does when he’s being completely sincere.

Lance pulls him down into a kiss, wrapping his arms around Keith’s shoulders, and Keith running his hands up into Lance’s hair.

“I love you too,” Lance says, breathless as he pulls away. Keith kisses his forehead soft and sweet.

“I know.”


	11. Day 11 and 12: Angel and Demon

Dust falls from the rafters that Keith is sitting on, disrupted by the powerful strains of the howling music being belted out by a celestial being on the huge pipe organ beneath him. The cathedral is empty, but the candles are still lit for the saints that shift restless around the pews. Keith’s wings flutter just as restlessly, his soul light feels dim and he’s afraid it’s messing with the other saints. Even the organ music is harsh, like the spirit who plays it is trying to make the music come to life.

Perhaps it would have been better if Keith had stayed away from the cathedral tonight, but he needed respite and the groves of trees where he spends his days now seem dark and foreboding. He lost his little spirit. He lost the child he had been assigned to, and it tore something away from him. 

He needed to pray, but the altar is huge, and he’s failed his celestial task. So he took to the rafters, folded his wings behind his back and plead to whoever may listen, be it a saint or a God, that his little soul travels safely back home.

His prayer though, had changed along it’s winding path of fear and guilt and pain, and he prayed for himself. What a selfish thing for an angel to do. To pray for himself when this mortal world tumbles in hatred and despair. Keith was alone though, completely. 

The saints wander, restless to his warring emotions. 

He feels Lance before he sees or hears him. A warmth that nearly burns, starting from the base of his wings and burning up his throat onto his tongue.

Lance smiles down at him when he looks up, his dark blue eyes twinkle from saint fire and his smile is sharp as his pointed wings.

“Hello there angel cakes, long time no see.”

“What are you doing here?” Keith asks, which Lance frowns at sitting down on the beam with him.

“You don’t sound like yourself sweetness. You haven’t tried to bite my head off yet.”

Keith shrugs watching as Saint Paul stares up into the high ceiling, he can feel something is off, and he should, a demon is sitting in the cathedral he’s been tasked to protect. It’s almost enough to make Keith crack a smile.

A warm hand touches his shoulder, and it should burn, Lance is a demon, he is an angel, they shouldn’t be able to touch each other. They can though, and neither of them burn the other.

“Keith? What’s wrong?” Lance’s voice is soft with concern and  _ care _ , and Keith knows it shouldn’t be. He lets Lance turn him so they’re facing each other, “Keith, you can tell me.”

Keith’s eyes fill with tears and he wraps an arm around the demon’s neck, burying his head in his shoulder. Lance makes a surprised noise before wrapping an arm around Keith’s back, and  stroking up and down Keith’s wings with his free hand.

“I-I lost my little soul Lance!” The organ music booms against the walls and rattles the beam they’re perched on as Keith wails. Keith was used to the immortal feeling of never crying before he came back to the mortal world, and it’s such a human vulnerability that it scares Keith. Scares him enough that he clings desperately to a demon.

“Oh,” Lance exhales and it ruffles Keith’s hair, knocking his halo askew. Keith sobs louder feeling hysterical, what is a demon supposed to say? How is Lance who is devoid of all good supposed to comfort him? Why would he want to?

“Did he pass on?” Lance’s voice is an even softer trill now, pressed right up against Keith’s ear. Keith nods against him, his voice too choked to answer. “Oh Keith.”

For some reason the compassion in Lance’s voice makes him angry, he shoves himself away, wrapping his arms around his chest to make up for the lack of Lance’s warmth.

“Why do you care?” he spits, watching as Lance blinks at him in surprise, “You never even answered my question!” Keith wipes at his eyes feeling himself start to cry again, “Why are you here?” It doesn’t come out strong or spiteful, it’s pathetic.

Lance reaches out to him again and Keith doesn’t fight him as he wraps his arms back around him. 

“You called for me.”

“N-no I didn’t. I was calling for,” Keith pauses. He’d been calling for someone to release him from his loneliness. Someone to care for his wounded soul.

Lance smiles sadly, “I was pulled to you. I had no idea where you were, but I just had this sudden desire to be close to you. I needed to be close to you and I had no idea why, but I care for you Keith.” He’s tracing the long feathers on Keith’s wings up and down, his claws scratching against the grain and making Keith shiver. “You should know I do.”

“I do know. I don’t know why though. We should hate each other.”

Lance laughs and it’s far different from his usual laugh, bright and light. 

“Oh I know, but how can I not love you sweetness? That’s like asking me to stop damning souls to hell. I was made to.”

“Y-you love me?” Keith can feel his wings puffy up as he flusters. Lance bites hard into his bottom lip breathing out a curse.

“I, well, yes. And I know you don’t feel that way for me, and that it goes against everything you are, but it’s the truth. I love you.”

Keith cups Lance’s face, “Do not pass judgement on me yet oh powerful demon. I can love you,for I fear it has been growing in me, and my soul yearned for you.” 

Lance looks as if he could kiss Keith right then, but Keith bows his head, a frown pulling his face down once more, his halo slipping, and sadness filling him again.

“I am wounded Lance, and I have failed my one divine assignment.”

Lips press against the back of his neck, “Death is not failure Keith. Was your little soul safe when he died, was he in pain?”

“Yes, he was safe, yes he was in pain. I could not relieve him of it.”

“You protected him as you could. Some things not even you have control over. Death is one of these things, your little soul will be happy.”

Keith nods, though he still feels the part of his own soul that had darken when his little spirit had left his mortal life.

“He was just a baby. He deserved to live.” Keith mumbles watching Saint Paul grow more agitated at Lance’s confusing presence.

“Maybe, but perhaps you saved him from death's scythe before the world is cruel to him.” Lance says, hands tracing back up Keith’s wings. 

Keith turns to look at the demon, his blue eyes seem lighter, more human, “What am I to do now?”

Lance stands, holding out a clawed hand, “Come with me. Let’s both diverge from our immortal callings. I seek only your love now.”

Keith stands too, his wings stretching out over the rafters. He thinks about what he could lose, his little soul is safe now, and Lance is there. He reaches out and takes Lance’s hand.

The organ goes silent.


	12. Day 13: Movies

He’s nervous, standing in the crowded hallway of his high school. He’s so nervous in fact that the flowers he had picked were reduced to green mush in his hands, staining them yellow and green. He dumps them in the trash he’s hiding behind and soothes back his hair. He can do this. Of course he can, it’s just Lance. Not a big deal.

Except it's a huge deal, because it’s  _ Lance _ . Lance who lives in a big white house on the nice side of town. Lance who sits with the popular kids that look down on Keith’s rough little gang of friends, and where they're from. Lance who probably didn’t have to work extra days just to pay for a movie that’s been out for at least six months.

His palms are sweaty and his mind is panicky. Does he smell bad? He put on a clean shirt this morning. Oh god, he probably smells bad. Are there any stains on his pants, he glances down. His heart sinks. Not only do his pants have stains, his scuffed shoes look scruffier than before. The soles worn and the duct tape Shiro used to patch them with is starting to peel off. He needs to abort mission. Now. But to his horror he’s now standing directly behind Lance and his gaggle of friends.

Lance is wearing his blue varsity jacket, his hair combed back to perfection, unlike Keith’s where it’s slicked,  _ greased _ , back against his head with pieces falling out. Lance smells good even from where Keith is standing, high end soap and cologne. He’s intimidating, but Keith likes him so much.

The conversation in the group quiets, a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes squints at Keith, tugging the arm of the girl next to her. The both glare at him and he glares right back. The stares and sudden quiet catch Lance’s attention and he turns around.

“Oh,” Lance says his eyes going wide looking at Keith. Keith can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not, so he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and rocks back on his heels.

“Hey Lance,” he smiles ignoring the whispers around them. Lance smiles that dazzling smile of his.

“Hi Keith, how are you?”

“Oh, uh. I’m good. You?” God, god! This was going worse then Keith thought it was going to. If he survives the embarrassment of this entire interaction, he’s gonna go lock himself in Mr. Smythe’s garage and stay there.

Lance’s nose wrinkles in a cute way as he smiles more, “I’m good, what are you doing here?”

It doesn’t sound hostile, which Keith thinks is good. He clenches his hands in his pockets, “Uh well,” the glares of the others suddenly feel heavier, and his status suddenly screams in his face, but Lance is looking at him with large sincere eyes full of, hope? “I was wondering if maybe you want to go see a movie with me at the drive in this weekend?”

He says it all in a rush, and the people around Lance gasp. The blonde haired girl's friend reaches out and grabs Lance’s sleeve, pulling him back.

“He isn’t interested. Get outta here.” she sneers at him and Keith sets his jaw. He isn’t leaving until he gets a definitive no from Lance.

Lance pulls his sleeve out of the girl's grasp, “Actually I am interested.”

Keith grins, “Really?”

Lance nods a pretty blush taking over his face, “Yeah.”

Keith wants to hop around in a circle and whoop, he settles on rocking back on his heels again, “Great, I’ll pick you up at sundown on First. That’s close to your place yeah?”

Lance nods smiling at Keith just as wide. The bell rings and Lance starts getting pulled away. 

“I doubt he even has a truck. Lance what are you thinking?!” One of the girls says as Keith all but skips down the hall in the other direction.

He doesn’t catch Lance’s reply.   
  


Keith has a truck. She’s his pride and joy. A maroon Ford from the forties, rust on her hubcaps and a noisy engine that acts up every winter and every fourth Sunday of the month.

“It’s all the homosexual energy,” Shiro remarks every time they can’t get her started. It earns him an incredulous laugh from Keith as he’s bent under the hood and a dish towel to the head from Curtis.

Keith doesn’t blame her, she’s an old vehicle and it's a miracle she’s running at all. His pa had bought her the year before they went to war, and she sat in the shed behind their house. No one knew what to do when pa didn’t come back and his ma sure wasn’t gonna stick around with a kid and a broke down old truck.

It had been given to Keith by a woman with a tight grimace on her face a summer ago, and he’d worked his tail off to get her going   
  
  
  
  
  
He calls out a farewell to Shiro as he hops down the crumbling steps to their front door, shoes newly patched with clean duct tape, hair greased back, shirt tucked in and pants stain free. Shiro had let him borrow a quilt so Lance and him don’t have to sit in the cold bed while they watch their movie.

It sends a thrill through him at the thought.  _ Lance and him. Him and Lance. _ He sighs as he hops into his truck, patting the dash and crosses his fingers as he turns the key. She starts with only a slight hiccup and Keith presses a kiss to her steering wheel.

Lance is waiting on the curb when Keith pulls up. He smiles at Keith who grins back hopping out of the drivers side so he can open the door for Lance. Lance even takes his hand so Keith can help him up into the cab.

Once they’re settled and Keith has pulled away from the curb Lance turns to him.

“I’m sorry about my friends. You didn’t deserve what they said.” Lance says, a bit of disgust coloring his words. Keith wonders if they said more after he was gone.

Keith shrugs grinning back over at Lance, he just can’t _stop_ _smiling_ , “It’s fine. A couple of weird comments ain’t no bat to the head or belt to the back.”

Lance’s eyebrows scrunch but he lets it go, “So! What are we going to see?”

The night has fully fallen as they drive up to the ticket booth and Lance is vibrating in his seat now that he’s over his pouting from Keith’s refusal to tell him the name of the movie. Keith pays the price to get in and even gets two cokes and a bag of cracker jack.

Lance grabs his hand across the seat as Keith drives up and down the rows of cars looking for a suitable place to park so they don't have to sit on the roof of the cab. He startles as he looks over at Lance who is bouncing in his seat.

“I’ve never done something like this, I'm so excited!”

Keith’s chest feels warm.   
  
They find a good spot and Keith backs his truck up, then he hands Lance their snack and unfolds the quilt across the back of the bed. Then he helps Lance climb up into the bed. They settle in the snacks creating a space between them that Keith tries not to think too hard about. The screen lights up in front of them and Lance gasps as the title of Cinderella roles across the screen.

It’s not really Keith’s type of thing, so he watches Lance watch the movie. His eyes are bright in the projected light, and caramel crumbs from the cracker jack sit on his lips.

As the coke is reduced to empty glass bottles tossed to the side, and the cracker jack dwindled to a plastic spaceman that Keith claims as his own; the space between them closes.

Lance leans against him, curling against his side, his eyes still trained on the movie. Keith glance’s up, his heart fluttering erratically.

Cinderella is being twirled around in her prince’s arms, blue dress sparkling and eyes full of adoration. Keith glances down at the boy in his arms. Lance’s lips are moving softly with the words of the soft song that accompanies the dance.

As if drawn by his gaze Lance looks up at him too, he shivers and Keith starts. He shrugs out of his heavy aviator jacket that had seen the skies of World War II, and drapes it around Lance. Lance snuggles into it and further against him his eyes still on his face.

The movie comes to an end and there’s few moments of silence in which Lance speaks.

“I like you Keith,” he whispers, sincerity dripping from his words and a blush covering his cheeks, “A lot.”

Keith smiles though his own blush burns heavy on his cheeks, “I like you too Lance. A lot.”

Lance leans against him as Keith drives him back home, and then clings to his arm as Keith walks him to his door.

“I take it you’d already seen Cinderella?” Keith asks as they linger on Lance’s porch. Moths flit around the light and Keith’s hair. Lance blushes again and looks down.

“Yeah, I went when it premiered. It wasn’t nearly as good though.”

“Thank you for letting me take you out,” Keith says squeezing Lance’s hands. Lance smiles squeezing back.

“I was waiting for you to ask.”

Keith finally lets him go but as he’s stepping off the porch, Lance grabs his wrist. When he turns around Lance brushes their lips together in a kiss. He pulls away red in the face and Keith is left whirling.

“Let's go see it again next weekend okay?” Lance says and Keith nods. “Goodnight Keith.”

“Goodnight Lance.”


	13. Day 14: Hanahaki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not this one is sad, but it has ended well in the comments of my Instagram.

Keith is a mess, tear tracks running down his face from his painful retching and what came up with it. He’s leaning heavily across a toilet in the library, it’s disgusting but he’s shaking so bad he’s relying on it to keep him up. Keith feels delirious and slightly manic, because in the toilet below him, torn from his lungs are tiny blue flowers.

Forget-me-nots.

Tiny cobalt blue petals with yellow bleeding from the center to kiss upon the petals gently. So fragile and unique, their message clear. They’re beautiful, and they’re for Lance. Of course they are.

The petals are the same color as Lance’s eyes, and like their name, how is Keith supposed to forget him. He laughs, and sobs at the end, spitting a glob of tangy flavored saliva into the water below. Keith wipes bile and blood and petals off of his lips, turning his face away from the mess so he can breath easier.

He hates this, what is he going to do? Hanahaki is taboo in society, something to be talked about in secret with doctors and in fear with family. It kills more and more people, and didn’t understand why they would rather die than get the flowers removed. He knows now, and he knows why it’s flowers, why its  _ roots _ .

When you love someone, they bury themselves deep into your chest cavity. Carving space for themselves and fastening themselves to your heart, like roots into soil. The air you breathe is stifled by them, and the rhythm of your heart is affected by them. 

Keith had felt the roots take hold, had pressed a hand to his chest and gazed in longing and fear at Lance. Sitting back to back with Hunk, crooning about some game that Keith had lost an hour ago. He’d retreated, to the cool window that overlooks the student parking area, just watching Lance.

There is something about him, in the way he sees life, the ups and downs and turnabouts that catch Keith up and send him sprawling. Lance takes them in strides and smiles against whatever may come. He’s bright and gold and everything Keith isn’t. He’s everything Keith wants. He wants Lance’s smiles, and his tears. His moments of joy, his moments of sorrow. Keith wants him.

He felt the roots grow and he knew, Lance doesn’t love him. 

Keith trembles and feels the agonizing scratch build in his throat again. He’s going to die, he needs to tell Shiro. He needs to tell Pidge and make sure she knows he loves her, that she’s his little sister. He needs to tell Hunk thank you for accepting him when Pidge introduced him.

He needs to tell Lance.

He needs to tell him he won’t forget. 

The flowers had made up his mind. He hadn’t wanted to forget to begin with. Lance was so much to him. His rival turned friend turned best friend. They had spent precious moments together. So different and unique in each way that Keith doesn’t want to forget them. He doesn’t want to forget the friendship that meant so much to him, that he worked so hard to create. Then he’d coughed up his first forget-me-not, and he knew he couldn’t. Knew he wouldn’t.

He drags himself to his feet, his chest is full to bursting, with life that is draining Keith. The rest of him feels hollow.

He’s coughing again as he steps out of the library, so he scrambles for his phone and calls Shiro. He picks up after the second ring like he always does, answering with a voice full of happiness. He calls Keith little brother, and Keith feels his eyes burn.

“S-Shiro,” his voice is feeble and he hears as Shiro's concern bleeds through the phone. 

“Keith what’s wrong?” Quiet panic is lacing it’s way through Shiro's words, Keith hates himself for making him worry. He feels a petal in his mouth and he spits it into his hand, the blue petals nearly swallowed with his maroon blood.

“I-I have hanahaki Shiro. I have for a while, I think it’s almost time.”

“Time? Keith, time for what?! Where are you?!” He can hear the jingle of Shiro's car keys.

“It’s Lance,” Keith rasps and the name falling from his lips like blue petals burns. “It’s Lance.”

He drops the tiny blue petal from his palm onto the sidewalk.

_ Forget me not. _


	14. Day 16: Blade of Marmora

Is Lance sneaking onto the Blade’s base without permission? Yes. Could it quite possibly end badly? For sure. Is it for a good reason? Absolutely.

Lance hadn’t heard or seen hide nor mullet of Keith since he had left permanently. In fact the last time Lance saw him, his eyes were sad and his smile was sadder as he walked away. Lance normally wouldn’t have been worried, but Keith was good at updating them on what was going on, and normally he was right next to Kolivan during briefings, a stony bored look on his face. They haven’t seen him since and there have been at least two briefings. Two! It was enough for Lance to try and contact him through their personal phones.

He’ll admit that on nights when the days had been particularly hard, and Shiro particularly un-Shiro like; Lance would read through their long winding conversations. He scrolls all the way up to the top with his first text testing out if it worked and Keith’s adorable reply of a smiley face.

Their last conversation had been a stupid one about the probability of finding a planet populated with kittens. Keith had been overly keen on the idea and so lance had fallen into the conversation with happy ease.

The conversation ended with a call where Keith answered laughing clear and bright over Lance’s stupid comment about cat kings wearing toe rings instead of crowns. God it had been such a stupid conversation, and when Keith was done stealing Lance’s breath with his laughter he admitted that if he wasn’t tired he wouldn’t have laughed. 

They had sat in silence then, Lance wrapped in his blankets on his bunk in the Castle of Lions, and Keith far away on some remote planet or crowded ship. Lance wishes the night had never ended.

So when Keith didn’t respond to anything, Lance begged Coran to tell him the location of the blade base. He’s sure if Coran knew what he was going to do with this information he wouldn’t have given it up so easily. Lance was going to make sure Keith was okay. He was going to make sure he knows he’s loved. 

The crates he’s hiding behind suddenly seem way too small as two blades walk into the storage bay. Lance holds his breath listening to the blades talk quietly to each other, one holds a data pad and they move steadily towards him. Lance bites at his lip, the only exit are the large doors that the two marmorites had, thankfully, left open.

Lance sighs and takes a chance, moving silently past the two hooded figures as they walk past. He ducks behind crates and when he runs out of places to hide he sprints out the door, chooses a random direction and scrambles in it. He pauses, panting against a wall and looks around the dark, empty halls. He’s just now realizing that he might have bitten off more than he can chew. The base is huge and he has no idea where Keith would even be.

Lance closes his eyes and reaches out for his lion, Keith’s lion, their lion. He can feel her warring emotions. The fear she holds for both of her paladins and her annoyance that Lance had left her outside.

“Help me find him Red,” he whispers. He zones in on that warmth in his chest and listens to it. His eyes fly open and he smirks.

It’s not as hard to avoid people as he sneaks up and down exhausting long hallways. He has to hide only a few times and he wishes he had worn his armor.

He knows he’s found Keith when Red’s flame jumps in his chest. Red’s joy clashes oddly with Lance’s heart sinking sadness. Keith’s room is at the end of a long dark hallway, all purples and grays. There are hardly any doors around it, and the sensor by the door glows a glaring red. It’s locked. Keith doesn’t feel safe.

Lance paces a bit, his teeth digging into his lip again, Red is impatient pushing him. He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. He flinches as it echoes down the hall. It’s quiet after the knock and Lance waits with bated breath. 

It takes longer than Lance thought it would for the door to slide open, and when it does Lance wish it hadn’t.

Keith doesn’t look like Keith anymore. His shoulders are slumped, his eyes covered with his hair and laden with heavy dark bags. His skin is sickly pale.

“Sorry Lunz, I-” he looks up and freezes, “Lance?”

Lance smiles at him, and it feels like a grimace on his face, “Hey man. Uh how-” he’s cut off by Keith throwing himself at him. Lance stumbles as Keith wraps himself around him, burying his nose in Lance’s neck and locking his arms around his shoulders. Lance laughs and wraps his arms around Keith as well. Keith pushes away from him after a little, holding him at arm's length and looking him up and down.

“What are you doing here? And how did you get here?” Keith asks as his voice is rough and colored in confusion.

Lance rubs a sheepish hand across the back of his neck, “well I kind of snuck onto the base.”

Keith’s mouth falls open, “Shut up, no you didn’t.”

Lance laughs putting his hands up in surrender, “I did. Trust me, I think Red had a hell of a lot to do with it.”

Keith still looks unconvinced but he shakes his head, his shaggy hair sweeping over the bridge of his nose. “Why are you here though? Are you guys okay? Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” Lance says with a sigh, eyebrows creasing at Keith’s tired alarmed eyes, “Something did happen, you stopped talking to me. I was worried.”

Keith opens his mouth and then closes it, “What? So you guys don’t need me?”

Lance tilts his head at him, “What are you talking about?” he watches Keith’s eyes widen as Lance says his words back to him. Arms come up to wrap around Keith’s chest and he steps away from Lance.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he mutters and Lance can’t stand it anymore. He reaches out and grabs Keith’s face.

“I’m not making fun of you Keith, god, I’m so worried about you.” Keith won’t look at him, his eyes focussing somewhere over Lance’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to be worried,” Keith’s voice cracks and Lance laughs, not unkindly as he strokes Keith’s cheeks. 

“We haven’t seen you in weeks Keith, and I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.

“O-oh. I-,” Keith is cut off by a footsteps echoing down the hall. Keith grabs Lance’s hand and drags him into his room. It feels like Lance has just stepped into a vat of ink. It’s so dark it’s stifling and Lance tightens his hold on Keith’s hand. “Lights please,” Keith whispers.

Hardly lights, Lance thinks as purple lights that line the room flicker on. It makes the room glown dully and cast ghastly shadows against Keith’s face, making the bags under his eyes look like deep bruises. He moves away from Lance towards his bed that is a mess of sheets and thin blankets. There are gauze unravelled and falling off the mattress. 

“Are you hurt Keith?” his voice is loud and a bit sharper then Lance wanted it to be. Keith looks like he’s going to deny it before he nods. Lance follows him to this bed, worry filling him again as he sits down on the hard mattress. “Where?” He asks, his voice is soft now. He takes the gauze from Keith’s hands.

Keith hesitates before reaching towards the back of his suit and pressing something, it decompresses from around his body with a soft hiss. Keith pulls it off of his arms and lets it pull at his waist the dark fabric contrasting heavily against his skin. Lance’s mouth feels dry but he focuses and Keith twists to show him his side. 

There’s a wound there wrapping around Keith’s ribs.Lance can only describe it as festering. The skin around the abrasion is a sickly grey, the fleas flaking and dying. The inside is a darker grey nearly black.

“Keith, what is this?” Lance looks up at him. Keith’s face is turned towards his wall.

“Space burn. My suit ripped and my flesh was exposed to the pressure and temperature of open space. I thought I covered it soon enough.”

Lance is gentle as he can be as he dresses the wound with the limited supplies Keith had on his bed. As he works Keith reaches for something in a hidden little compartment in the wall. A few moments later, Keith’s familiar orange phone is being shoved under Lance’s nose. There’s a perfect crack down the middle, cutting it in half

“I should have left it on the ship but I wanted something so I could tell you if something went wrong. It didn’t make it, I’m sorry Lance.”

Lance makes a noise in the back of his throat and pulls Keith against him again, gingerly until Keith laughs softly in his ear. 

“It’s all numb, I can’t feel a thing.”

Lance sighs, “This isn’t healthy Keith.”

“I know.”

“You should come back.”

“I know.” Keith’s voice hiccups and he shivers. It is cold and he squirms his way out of Lance’s arms so he can pull his suit back up. Lance stops him. The tightness of the suit cannot be doing anything good for the injury. 

Without thinking Lance strips out of his jacket and his shirt. Keith’s eyes go wide.

“W-what are you doing?!”

Lance hands him his shirt warm from body heat but loose enough to let the injury breath.

“Wear this instead.” Lance says, his own skin is already starting to prickle from the coolness of the room. He presses the shirt into Keith’s hands. Keith takes it reluctantly, sliding the fabric over his head. Lance is beyond happy to see the light blue and white on Keith, to see how the long sleeves cover half of his hand, and how the neck threatens to slip off a shoulder. Lance wraps his jacket around Keith next, then his arm leaning them back against the wall.

Keith goes easily leaning against Lance, “What are you going to wear?”

Lance shrugs and Keith’s hair brushes his chin, “Nothing I guess.”

“But,-” Keith starts to protest but Lance wraps his arm more firmly around him, laying his cheek on top of Keith’s head.

“It’s okay Keith. You need to be warm.” Lance is surprised if not even more anxious when Keith doesn’t argue anymore. He just lays his head back on lance’s shoulder and sighs.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me a story?”

Lance closes his eyes, a tiny smile on his face, and begins to talk.


	15. Day 17: Flowers

Keith hears that all too familiar trill of a bike bell as he’s halfway under a car covered in oil. He rolls himself out from under it, his hands are filthy and his back hurts, but he’s grinning. There’s a drop cloth on the hood of the car that’s so stained it’s useless, he grabs it anyways and hurries to the open door of his garage.

It's been raining since he woke up that morning, and he half expected to not see that blue bike costing down the road with a basket full of flowers but there it is. Keith grins and waves for all he’s worth, and Lance waves back his smile wide.

His hair that is normally wind blown in twists of brown and gold, is now pressed flat against his head. His clothes stick to his body, it must be so uncomfortable, but he’s smiling at Keith the same way he always does.

“You’re filthy,” Lance says, like he always does as he comes to a stop by Keith. His eyes twinkle with mischief. Keith shrugs, taking Lance’s bike by the handlebars and walking it into the garage.

“Comes with the job. Come on in.” 

Lance follows him gratefully wringing his shirt out. Keith lets the kickstand down and Lance reaches into his basket. Keith can’t help the flip of excitement in his stomach as Lance pulls out the flower of the day. Lance smiles twirling it in his fingers before handing it to Keith. Keith takes it gently and prays any oil left on his hands won’t transfer to the stem or petals. It’s a rose like it normally is,this one a yellow with red tipped petals. Unique, pretty, perfect.

“It’s another hybrid tea. We needed a lot for an order, but we had leftovers.” Lance says softly, he’s always so soft when he gives Keith a flower.

“Thank you Lance, it’s beautiful.” Keith looks at Lance, makes sure Lance knows he means it. He’s delighted by the pink that spreads across Lance’s face.

“Of course. I didn’t want to throw them away.”

It had been an accident the first time, the first flower. Lance’s tire had gone flat on the hill by Keith’s auto shop. Keith had helped him fix it up, and Lance had given him a peach rose exclaiming how lucky he was to have one with him. Keith didn’t understand why, but every rose since has been a different color. It’d become their thing. Lance would bring Keith a flower on his way home, then he’d sit on the rickety stool in the corner of Keith’s garage and tell him about things. Just things. 

Keith kept every one of those flowers, preserved in books or hung upside down in his bedroom.

He places his new rose safely away from his work area for now and Lance settles on his stool.

Keith reaches for a wrench before pausing. He looks over at Lance, who looks perfectly at ease, dare he say at home, on the three legged stool. He doesn’t seem to mind the heavy smell of oil that lingers in the garage, or Keith’s lack of conversation. He doesn’t want to ruin this, but his heart has long since made up its mind on Lance.

“Lance, why do you keep coming back here?” he runs his fingers over the wrench fighting to keep his eyes on Lance.

Lance blinks at him, “Do you not like me coming back here?”

“No! No, I love your company. I just feel like there are better things you could be doing then wasting your time on me.”

Lance hops off of the stool and picks up Keith’s rose. He presses practised fingers along the stem and petals. He holds it back out to Keith, “Am I wasting my time Keith?”

Keith takes the rose in confusion. He studies the petals, again. The red bleeding into rich yellow. He’s missing something. Keith thinks back to all of the rose he’s gotten from Lance.

Peach first, then lavender, then yellow, then light pink. On and on, until this one, and this one seems special.

He looks back up at Lance, “The roses mean something don’t they, and I’ve been missing the message.”

Lance laughs, “They don’t have to mean anything. Not if you don’t want them to.”

Keith reaches out and takes Lance’s hand. He toes off his shoes and pulls Lance towards the door that leads into his house. Lance sputters but follows getting his own shoes off hastily. Keith leads him past his living room and into his bedroom, to the table in the corner where his roses are preserved.

“I want to know.”

Lance looks over the flowers with his lips parted, “You kept them.”

“What else was I gonna do with them, throw them away?”

Lance laughs brightly, he leans over the table and points out the peach one.

“That one means appreciation, or at least that’s one of it’s meanings. I thought it was perfect for the occasion.” he points to the lavender next, and his cheeks pink a little, “this one means l-love at first sight, but I gave it as fascination,” he offers a shy smile to Keith, “I thought you were fascinating. That’s one reason I kept coming back.”

“Wow.” Keith deadpans, a smile stretching his cheeks. Lance smacks his arms lightly but continues.

“Yellow means friendship.” Lance falters on the next one, light pink and pressed carefully into a book, “light pink means sweetness. You’re so sweet Keith. To strangers, to me.” Lance is a blushing mess Keith can see the tips of his ears pink under the hair that curls around them as it dries.

Keith isn’t doing much better though. His cheeks are burning and his neck feels hot. He reaches out for Lance and pulls him closer. “What’s the next one?”

“Orange means desire,” Lance admits breathlessly, his fingers squeezing around Keith’s. He looks away as if the admittance would have Keith casting him away. 

Keith turns him so they’re looking at each other. Lance feels delicate in Keith’s hands, not unlike the flowers he’s been gifting him.

“And the one from today?” Keith asks gently. Lance licks over his lips.

“I-it means falling in love. It means I’ve fallen in love with you Keith.”

Joy flips recklessly through Keith’s chest, “You wrote me a love letter with flower petals, and I couldn’t read it.” he’s laughing then, at the pureness of the situation, at the relief. Lance smiles too even if his cheeks still color pink.

“Allura warned me this might happen. I was actually counting on it.”

“Counting on it? Why?” 

Lance rolls his eyes, his smile dropping a little, “Well I could tell you my ridiculous feelings subtly without losing your friendship.”

“Lance, if you are suggesting that I do not return your feelings then I need to find some flowers of my own.”

Lance laughs breathlessly, his hands bunching Keith’s shirt and curling over his heart, “You. You really-”

Keith kisses him before he can finish his sentence. It’s sloppy but Lance rights it before melting into Keith. Lance’s hair is still wet as Keith buries his hands into it, tugging lightly at it. 

Keith pulls away first, looking down at Lance’s flushed face. He leans their foreheads together, “What color do you think the next rose will be?”

“Red,” Lance says and pulls him down for another kiss.


	16. Day 19: Kosmo

Kosmo meant that Keith was home. 

Lance had learned to watch for the blue and black wolf before Keith, and now as he’s sitting in his living room wasting time his heart leaps as he hears him. 

He never bothers with shoes anymore, far too excited to stop for something so trivial. Lance runs out onto the porch, a smile breaking across his face as he watches Kosmo tear through his flowers, stirring up a flurry of pink petals. Keith will reprimand him for it, but Lance doesn’t mind. Kosmo means Keith is home.

Lance walks onto the soft grass in the yard and braces himself for a wriggly ball of wolf, holding his arms out for the impact. Kosmo bolts into his arms, his fur covered in petals and pollen, laying licks against Lance’s face.

The impact brings lance to the ground, it always does, but he laughs and buries his hands in the thick hair around Kosmo’s neck, letting the wolf wiggle and slobber all over him. Kosmo smells like deep space, which Lance thought was odd, but Keith smells like deep space too. A smoldering smell that can’t be found on earth. It warms Lance’s heart and he hugs the wolf tighter.

“I’ve missed you buddy,”The wolf boofs in his ear, tail wagging hard enough to create a wind current. Kosmo lets more of his weight settle on Lance and he snorts, “Your dad is a liar. He swears up and down he doesn’t spoil you, but I think your weight proves him wrong. What do you think?”

Kosmo chuffs and lays his head down across Lance’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re home. I’m glad both of you are home.” Lance whispers to the wolf letting his eyes slip shut smiling.

“You know, sometimes I think you miss that wolf more than me.”

Lance’s eyes snap open and Kosmo’s tail starts up again. Keith whistles a short note and Kosmo is off Lance and bounding around Keith like a puppy. Keith ignores him in favor of looking down at Lance. He’s smirking, lips curled up, sharp canines on display, and soft eyes.

He’s so pretty.

“You know if you tell him to get off he will.” Keith extends his hand to help Lance up. The grass is soft though, and Lance doesn’t want to get up. He grabs Keith’s hand and pulls him down, laughing as Keith’s eyes go wide.

Keith lands on his forearms hovering over Lance with a playful glare. His eyes are so bright, and his hair is falling out of the braid it’s twisted in. He smells like deep space and sandalwood, and topping it all off is the ring that slips from under his uniform to dangle between them on it’s chain. Lance can’t help the shaky little exhale that leaves his lips at the sheer emotion he feels for Keith. 

“I missed you Lance.” gloved fingers brush against Lance’s cheek and he wishes Keith wasn’t wearing his uniform. “I’m so glad to be home.”

“Keith,” Lance's voice is pathetically reedy, and he pulls Keith down the rest of the way. He misses kissing Keith. Misses the sleepy ones in the mornings, and the playful ones throughout the day, and the passion filled ones under the cover of darkness. It’s like a piece of himself is missing without Keith, and he’s just filled back in that void.

It’s Kosmo who gets them to separate from each other with a wriggly nose pressed between them with a piteous whine. Keith groans and reaches for Kosmo hooking an arm around Kosmo to pull himself up. Lance sits up too, claiming Keith’s other hand for his own. He presses a kiss to the back of it.

“You are not that attention starved Kos,” Keith says petting between Kosmo’s ears. Lance presses himself into Keith’s side pressing a kiss into his neck.

“He really is Keith,” he pouts up at him and Keith sighs out a laugh. He stands and Lance follows. Keith presses a quick kiss to his hair when he gets up to level with him.

“Come on you two. There’s a perfectly good couch waiting for us inside.”

They walk into their little house hand in hand, Kosmo trailing after them. 


	17. Day 21: Carnival

The tent was hot, sweltering almost in the humid night and with the crowd of shuffling, yelling people. It was an intermission, and the reason why Lance was here. A man with flaming red hair that can almost be orange stands on the stage holding out bottles or remedies and calling out prices. The crowd surges to meet his calls, hands going up waving dollars and even a few barter items. Lance grits his teeth trying to push through the crowd to get to the front. 

He gets elbowed in the ribs and he scowls pushing right back just as hard. When he finally gets to the edge of the stage the man is already closing up empty boxes. Lance feels his heart sink.

“Sir, sir!” he has to shout over the cacophony. When the man sees him he bends down.

“What is it lad?” he says it through a smile. It's almost eerie, and Lance finds himself leaning away.

“I’m in need of a tonic,” Lance shouts, “I’ve heard you’re the best around.”

The man chuckles and twirls his mustache, “There you are correct lad, not a finer cabinet of entertainment or remedies then those of Coran’s medicine show.”

Lance nods impatiently, “I need one of your migraine tonics.”

“I’m sorry lad but we sold out of that one, but if you stick around my strong man has gone to fetch some more. We should be restocked by the end of Akira’s act.”

Lance opens his mouth to protest. He hadn’t come to watch fake acts, at the steep price of twenty five scents, but the tonic was worth it in his eyes. Those had been proven time and time again to work better than anything prescribed by a doctor. So Lance clenches his jaw and crosses his arms.

Coran winks at him, “You won’t regret it lad, Akira is a favorite of the crowd.'' Then he’s gone with an exaggerated bow to the crowd as if he had performed the acts. 

Lance watches a beautiful girl with long flowing white hair and a snake wrapped around her shoulders carry out a boil of oil. She leaves it in the middle of the stage and walks away as silently as she had come. The crowd murmurs and shifts in place. Coran grins at them all and the oil lanterns around the tent all lower. He holds his hands out over them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve seen wonder upon wonder tonight. Now prepare yourself for the hair raising performance of a lifetime. Deep from the scorching deserts of Galra, our fire eater Akira!” Coran bows again and all but twirls off stage.

The audience is quiet now, waiting. Lance has to admit he feels anticipation squirm in his stomach. Finally someone walks out onto stage.

He stops by the bowl of oil and Lance gulps. Akira’s eyes are intense, they smolder like embers hidden behind long hanging bangs. Lance traces the long cord of hair that’s braided down his back. His chest and feet are bare and Lance can see criss crossing scars trace up and down his pale skin. Akira is all lean muscle, and Lance can see the way his jaw ticks and his fingers clench.

Their eyes meet and Lance looks away hastily, only to look back up when Akira moves. 

He walks around to the oil and looks out into the crowd. He inhales, his nostrils flaring, before he  _ breathes fire. _ Lance gasps along with the crowd as the oil goes up in flame. He had seen fire eaters before, where they blew oil onto the flame, but Akira had just breathed fire like Lance breathes air.

The crowd claps and Akira throws a dramatic hand towards the edge of the stage, down into a poorly lit corner where Coran was waiting. Three apples were thrown up onto the stage and Akira caught them. He showed them off to the crowd the flames glinting off of the red skin. He looks back at Lance, a smirk curling his lips. Akira turns in a flourish and tosses the apples into the fire.

“No way,” Lance breaths, and he can’t help but step forward. The crowd shuffles closer with him murmuring even more. 

A woman screams and perhaps faints as Akira plunges his head into the flames. Lance watches as he bobs for apples one by one, spitting the charred fruit onto the floor until the last one which he holds triumphantly between his teeth. He steps away from the fire, he isn’t burned, not a hair is out of place, his eyes dance like the flame. 

Lance is mesmerized.

The crowd erupted into applause and Lance found himself clapping as well. A few burly guys catch Lance’s eye as they elbow each other and sneer up at the stage. Lance frowns as they duck out of the tent. His attention is stolen again by Akira who is dipping his hands back into the flame like they’re water.The flames flare around his fingers replenishing again. Coran is tossing something that flashes. Akira catches it, and Lance can see that it’s a long piece of metal. Akira spreads his feet and holds the metal between his palms. It heats rapidly glowing a brilliant red. He twists it and smooths his fingers across it. Coran slides a cup of water onto the stage and Akira slips the red hot metal into it making a plume of steam rush from the cup.

He pulls it out and shows it to the crowd. A perfect ring. Smooth all the way around and glinting. Akira walks to the edge of the stage stopping in front of Lance. He looks up at those as Akira crouches down. He holds the ring out to Lance, his smile is small. Lance stares at him lost in those eyes, and in the smell of burning pitch that radiates from him. Akira raises his eyebrows at him.

“It’s for you,” his voice is low. It pops and crackles like a campfire. Lance reaches out and takes the ring, his fingers brush Akira’s palm. It’s a shock of two sensations: hot skin and cold metal of the ring.

“Thank you.” he mumbles it, but Akira grins at him before standing and returning to his basin of fire. Lance stares at the ring slipping it into his pocket for safe keeping. Akira performs one more feat, sucking all of the flames back into his mouth. His throat glows before fading.

Coran is back on the stage throwing his arms out, “Akira folks!” The crowd cheers and Akira bows somewhat stiffly and makes his leave. He glances back at Lance one more time before disappearing.

Whatever spell had been cast upon the audience by flickering flame and smoldering eyes is broken as Coran starts to talk again.

“Have you ever seen such a sight?” He shouts ,loud and boisterous, and no, Lance had never seen anything like that before in his life.”Now my kind folks, another round of my remedies!”

Lance walks home that night with a bottle of tonic in his hand,and an odd want to return sitting heavy in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna extend the same invitation I did on Instagram, if anyone wants to add more onto this or create an entire fic out of this idea, you are more then welcome. Just credit the original piece and have fun.


	18. Day 22: Dreams

“I had a dream last night,” Keith says, guilt pushing the words out of his throat and past his lips. His boyfriend glances at him, sharp green eyes hazy from disinterest. The wind blows his blonde hair around his face, and his thin lips clench at the same time as his fingers clench around his phone.

“Oh yeah? What was it about?” he asks. Keith swallows his eyes burning a bit in the cold air.

“I-I got everything I wanted,” he can’t help it. His eyes trail across the quad to the biggest tree where three people sit. Where he sits. Brown hair sparkling gold where it’s strewn across the grass. His arms are ridiculously bare, even though the wind is bitter with fall. They stretch out above his head and all Keith can do is stare.

His boyfriend laughs a little, eyes still glued to the screen, “I think we all have dreams like that Keith.”

“It’s not what you’d think,” Keith breaths, sitting on his hands, and dropping his eyes. “It might have even been a nightmare.” 

He gets a kiss pressed to his head as his boyfriend gets up, “See you tomorrow.”

Keith tries to smile at him, but it feels stilted and weak, “Okay. Bye.” he’s already walking away waving to someone on the other side of the lawn. Keith buries his head in his hands, guilt tearing through him savagely.

“Mullet!”

_ Oh no. Not now Lance. Please. _

An arm is being thrown around his shoulder as Lance all but throws himself on the bench next to him.

“There you are!” Lance laughs pulling Keith against his side. Keith flinches, he can’t help it. Those were the exact words that Lance had said to him in his dream. Just quieter, with soft blue eyes and a kiss to his knuckles. Lance doesn’t seem to notice. 

“We were looking for you! You normally eat with us, what happened today? Ditch us for your brother?”

Lance says so many words, fills so much space, wraps himself around you. Keith shakes his head.

“No. I was with my boyfriend.” he does feel Lance flinch, his arm going tense against him. It does nothing to help abate Keith’s inner turmoil. Lance’s arm disappears from around his shoulders, he misses the feeling instantly. “I’m sorry.”

Lance waves his hands around, “No. No don’t be sorry I shouldn’t have,” he trails off and they sit in silence watching people slowly but surely head back inside.

“Hey Keith?” Lance started right as Keith said his name. They both pause before Lance laughs, “Go ahead.”

Keith shakes his head a small smile curling at his lips, “No you can go.” his heart was already beating out of his chest from the question he wanted to ask Lance.

Lance’s smile slips off of his face and he looks out towards the football field where he has been blotted out by clouds. There are goosebumps littering his arms and Keith wants to hold him. He tucks his hands under his thighs again.

“Do you ever, “ Lance pauses, licks over his lips, scrubs a hand over the back of his hair, starts again. “Have you ever had a dream, that feels so real, that feels so good that it’s almost disappointing to wake up?”

Keith’s breath hitches, his nail beds burn where he digs them into the chalky plastic of the bench. Lance still isn’t looking at him, so he swallows the lump in his throat, “Yeah. I have.” his voice is a mere whisper and Lance turns to look at him. 

They stare at each other, Lance bites at the corner of his lip, “Though sometimes,” he reaches up and brushes Keith’s hair behind his ear. Keith shivers under the light touch, “Waking up is just as good.”

Keith reaches up to cup Lance’s hand where it rests on his cheek. Lance shits closer to push their foreheads together, “What did you want to say Keith?” His voice is so quiet and Keith’s eyelashes flutter.

“I was going to ask,” he meets Lance’s eyes, “What to do when you love someone you shouldn’t.” Keith’s voice cracks and Lance’s eyes fall closed. Their lips are so close together Keith can feel Lance’s breath when he speaks.

“I guess all you can do is dream.”


	19. Day 23: Birthday

  


5

Keith’s dad tries his hardest. His little boy is a roaring ball of energy. Bare feet constantly caked in dust and a tendency to get himself into dangerous little situations. He’s a joy, that’s for sure, but he would rather not find his son facing off against a rattle snake with nothing but a determined look on his face.

Keith is happy, or at least his dad hopes he is. He doesn’t require too much. Cuddles at night when the coyotes, Keith’s one true fear, start to whine, and at least one day where his dad takes him hiking. He never asks for more, even when he should. He never lingers long in the toy aisle when they go shopping. He very rarely will come to his dad with a candy bar clutched in his tiny fist. 

Keith has made his life a joy, and not as difficult as he feared it would be when Krolia had left him with an infant that was not yet weaned. So he wants to give his son something. Something indulgent, unuseful, something Keith can love just to love. He’s lost as he stands looking at the arrays of toys and books.

Keith has expressed a love of space, of stars and planets. So maybe a spaceship, but the plastic shuttles look cheap and Keith already uses the tire swing for a spaceship.

He would get a book, but Keith struggles something awful with words. He smiles when he remembers Keith frustration, throwing down a worn children's book and exclaiming, “All the words are backwards papa.”

So maybe not a book.

Finally a woman stops and peers at him, “Do you need help?”

He smiles sheepish and nods, “Yes ma’am.”

The woman seems happy to help him and leaves her own cart outside the aisle. She places her hands on her hips and looks over the toys with him.

“What are you looking for exactly?”

He shrugs, “I’m not too sure. My little boy is turning five this weekend. I want to get him something he can love on.”

The woman looks even more delighted. She claps her hands, “Oh! Five is quite the year!” she stops to consider, “Something to love on?” a light bulb seems to go off in her head and she grabs his hand leading him around to the other side of the aisle.

Stuffed animals. Of course. Keith has a sad lack of stuffed animals and he remembers the old rabbit he had dug out of storage for nights when his baby was inconsolable. He also remembers when the rabbit all but disintegrated and Keith had bravely held back his tears.

He smacks a hand to his forehead, “God of course. Sometimes I am so stupid.” he should have gotten Keith another little animal a long time ago.

The woman laughs and waves him away. They both go digging through bears and dogs, horses and cats. Nothing screams Keith, though he knows his son will take any of them gratefully. The fur is all different textures, but he wants something that won’t get overly dirty when Keith goes on adventures. Nothing with long fur.

He’s about to give up when his fingers brush over a different type of fabric. It’s soft without being long. He pulls it out. It’s a hippo, warm gray with hints of purple of the nose, belly, and legs. It’s soft in the middle with bead filled legs. Perfect to be held, perfect for Keith.

“I think that one's perfect.” the woman says and he agrees.

He buys cupcakes too, soft vanilla cupcakes with a swirl of pink frosting on top.

Keith is excited on his birthday, his dad is bad at keeping secrets and Keith had figured out that something special was going to happen. So he had woken up extra early that morning, gone to say hello to Mr. and Mrs. lizard and then waited for his dad to get out of bed. He sits on one of the tall chairs at the table and swings his legs, he’d put on his hiking shoes just to be sure and had even tied them himself.

“What are you doing up so early Keith?” his dad sks laughing as he comes down the stairs. He’s holding something behind his back and Keith giggles.

“It’s my birthday papa!”

His dad’s eyes go wide, “No! Already? I thought you had your birthday last year!”

Keith laughs louder and his dad puts down what he had been holding so he can scoop Keith up. Keith peers down at the items, but they’re sitting in boring brown paper shopping bags. 

“Yes papa, but I have a birthday every year! Just like you!” 

His dad smiles, carrying him into the kitchen away from the bags, “You’re right Tiger.” he lets Keith down and pulls out a pan, “ Are we going hiking today?”

Keith looks down at his shoes and then at his dad’s bare feet. He debates for a little, he wants to go hiking, but he also wants whatever is in those bags. 

“Keith, we can go hiking. It’s your birthday son, we can do what you want.” his dad says as he cracks eggs into the pan. 

Keith pulls on his fingers, “I know papa, but I’m kinda slow, my birthday will be gone before we get back.”

His dad chuckles, “Well if you want we can open presents and then go for a hike. How does that sound?”

That sounds amazing, and Keith sits down on the floor to untie his shoes, “I think that’s a good idea papa!”

His dad smiles as he runs out of the kitchen to put his shoes by the door and peer at the bags with excited glee. 

Breakfast takes way too long, and Keith has to eat all of his eggs and bacon before he can leave the table. His dad lets him have hot sauce though and that makes it a little better.

Finally after his dad has washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen a bit he walks into the living room. Keith is already on the couch bouncing even though he isn’t supposed to. His dad picks up one bag and hands it to Keith.

“Don’t get too disappointed son, I just wasn’t sure how to present these.”

Keith didn’t care and he tore the bag open to reveal a box of cupcakes. Store bought ones. His eyes go big and he runs revenant fingers over the clear part of the box. He’s only had store bought cupcakes once and he loved them so much.

“We can have those after dinner.” his dad says and holds out a hand for them. Keith hands them over and his dad passes him the second bag. Keith opens this onea little more carefully, and looks into the bag before pulling the thing out. He can’t tell what it is in the dark confines. He sticks his hands in and cups the soft fabric.

He loves it immediately, and squeezes it against his chest. The hippo rests perfectly on his chest, heavy legs splayed over his torso like a hug.

His dad moves the bag away and pulls Keith against his side, “Happy birthday Keith.”

  
  


9

She watches him warily. Hands squeezing over the steering wheel, she doesn’t know what to say. Keith is a smart little boy, he can tell when her words grow redundant. So she just watches him.

He looks a little worse for wear this time around. Lips pale, eyes guarded, shivering in his thin jacket. He won’t look at her, his hair acting as a shield between them. He needs to get it cut, and he needs something warm to eat, and a safe place to sleep.

“Keith,” he flinches when she talks and it hurts. She pushes on, “Keith what happened?”

She isn’t expecting him to answer her, but she also isn’t expecting his shoulders to tremble as he starts to cry. Keith is strong, tuff as nails, and resilient against all odds. She’s been his case worker since his father’s funeral three years ago and never had he let himself cry like this. 

She’s glad they’re pulled over and she gets out to walk around to his side of the car. The autumn wind blows straight through her. She opens his door and pulls him into a hug. His body trembles against her and if she were a religious woman she would have prayed for this child to find respite. She rubs his back and kisses his hair. He clings to her.

“Keith what do you need?”

He sobs and chokes, and sniffs, pressing his face against her coat, “I w-want my dad. He’s the only one who cared.”

She closes her eyes against her own tears, “I care Keith.” she whispers her fingers brushing through his hair. Keith sniffs again, one of his hands coming up to rub at his eye.

“Well course you do. It’s your job.”

She pushes him gently away from her so she can look at his face, “No Keith, that’s not true, and if I could I’d take you as my son.” God she would. “ I care, and if you need anything tell me.”

Keith looks down when she says that rubbing his fingers together, “I-it’s my birthday.” Keith admits quietly. She blinks and it is. She knew that, but she thought surely the family they had placed him with would, but no. Keith had run away last night. She stands up and Keith jumps, “I-I mean we don’t have to do anything about it. I just got sad because well I was thinking about my dad.”

“Do you like ice cream?” She interrupts him. Keith blinks a little, his fingers rubbing together again.

“Um, yes?”

She laughs, “Yes or no?”

Keith’s lips quirk a little, “it makes me feel sick, popsicles though,”

They go and get popsicles. The cashier looks at her like she’s insane, and yeah it’s freezing outside, but if Keith likes them then popsicles it is. She gets him a fleece blanket though to combat the cold.

He looks apprehensive as she climbs back into the blessedly warm car. She smiles at him, showing him the box. She hands him the blanket and the box which he takes tentatively.

“Thank you.” His voice is soft and he deserves more, but she smiles and holds out a hand for one of the cold treats.

“Happy birthday Keith, don’t eat all of those.”

  


13

“Shiro what if he hates this,” Matt says peering worriedly at the door while handing Shiro streamers. Shiro waves him away, taping them up and hopping off of Keith’s desk to admire his work.

It looks like a clown had vomited all over Keith’s dorm, but he can look past that. It’s the thought that counts after all.

“He’s not gonna hate it. It’s his birthday! We had to do something.” Shiro says picking up an empty balloon and stretching it before putting it to his lips. Matt shakes his head and looks over at Adam who has been on trash duty the entire time, following after his tornado of a boyfriend and grumbling. He’s sitting on Keith's bed now, toying with a party popper.

“Stop looking at me Matt. I’m not on either one of your sides.” Adam says not even looking up at him. Shiro gasps and flings a dramatic hand over his heart. It causes him to let go of the balloon he had just blown up and it goes flying around the room making disgusting noises.

“You wound me babe! I’m just trying to do something nice for Keith.” Shiro complains. He stomps over to his balloon and picks it up to reblow it up.

Matt sighs, normally he would love this, but prep for Kerberos is kicking him in the butt. “All I’m saying is maybe we should just take him out to eat or something. I don’t know if Keith is the surprise party type.”

Adam snorts finally putting the party popper down, “Oh it isn’t his type of thing at all.” he looks pointedly at Shiro who looks pointedly at the floor.

“Listen, Keith is like a little brother to me, he deserves this.” Shiro says and Matt gets it. If it were Pidge he’d be doing the same thing so he sighs.

“Okay, where do you want me.”

Matt is by the lights and Shiro and Adam hide behind Keith’s bed. He could hear them “whispering” and he rolled his eyes, he’s already straining to hear Keith’s footsteps and they’re making it near impossible to hear anything.

“Guys!” he hisses after a few minutes, “he’s coming!”

They go quiet, and Matt waits to flick the lights on.

The door slides open, Matt flips on the lights, Adam and Shiro jump out from behind Keith’s bed, and Keith lets out an unholy shriek.

It rings down the hall and echoes around the room, Keith looks like a scared cat and Matt swears his eyes turn yellow.

“Shiro! What the hell!” Keith cries penang himself away from the wall he had pressed himself against.

Shiro is in no way to answer Keith, he’s rolling around on the floor peals of laughter falling from his lips. Adam is slumped against the wall laughing just as much, and Matt lets himself chuckle.

“Keith,” Shiro gasps, rolling onto his hands and knees, “Keith you scream like a little girl.” he laughs again and Keith crosses his arms over his chest pouting.

Shiro gets a hold of himself again and climbs to his feet wiping his eyes. He grabs Keith around the shoulders and messes his hair up. “Sorry bud, we didn’t mean to scare you.”

Keith still looks disgruntled but his eyes soften as he looks around the room, “What is this?”

Matt sighs and rubs a hand through Keith’s messy hair, “It’s your birthday, or did you forget?”

Keith’s ears go pink, “N-no but I didn't think it was important.”

Shiro pulls Keith tighter against his side, “Of course it’s important Keith.”

They sit on Keith’s floor after that, eating a cake that Adam had gone all the way to town for, and playing board games. Keith smiles a lot more than Matt has seen in a long time. He throws cards at Shiro when he cheats, and laughs aloud when Adam and Shiro wrestle over the remaining cake while Keith holds his plate out of the way. It’s nice, in a chaotic way. 

  


22

Lance doesn’t know what to do. He’s panicking a little bit, exasperation coursing through his veins at his boyfriend, who had off-handedly mentioned that his birthday is  _ today _ . Lance wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that he hadn’t known when Keith’s birthday was but he needed to do something for him. He just doesn’t know what.

He’s hiding in the bathroom, his phone in his hand having a rather heated conversation with Shiro in whispers.

“What do you mean he does this every year?!” Lance whispers, Shiro lets out a long sigh.

“I mean he’s weird about his birthday. I literally had to go digging through Commander Iverson’s records to find out when he was born. He doesn't like big things like parties.”

Lance rubs his altean marks debating, he feels a soft little spot of affect bloom in his chest. Keith was just the type of person who would rather keep things like birthdays on the down low.

“I really want to do something for him.” Lance says.

Shiro sighs but Lance can hear his smile, “Maybe just spend the day with him. I think he’d like that more than anything else.”

Lance pokes his head out of the bathroom smiling when he still sees Keith’s black hair poking out of the covers. Even though Keith is now broad shouldered and taller he still sleeps curled on his side, letting Lance hold him.

Lance crawls back into bed, pressing a kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth and wrapping his arms back around him.

Keith smiles, “I’m awake Lance, you didn’t have to get back in bed.”

Lance snuggles closer to him, “I know, but I wanted to get back in bed with you.” 

Keith hums and lets Lance pull him in tight, “I’m sorry I didn’t know about your birthday Starlight.” Lance says burying his face in Keith’s hair. 

“I never told you baby. It’s okay, I wanted today to be normal.” Keith says.

“But it’s a special day,” Lance pouts, “And I didn’t even know.”

Keith sits up and turns around and looks at Lance, brushing his hair out of his face, “Lance. It’s okay, I would rather just spend the day how we normally do. You make everyday feel special anyways.”Lance blushes, and Keith grins leaning down to kiss him, “Just stay with me today and I’ll be fine.”

Lance pulls him back down, “You sir are the sappiest person I have ever met, and for what it’s worth, happy birthday Keith.”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does Keith's dad not have a canon name? Thats so messed up, like we got to see the man more then once. Was it too hard to name him?? Why did Keith's mom get a name but his poor dad is just texan accent guy. It's not fair.😂


	20. Day 24~ Anniversary

Keith moves around the kitchen as quietly as he can. Putting the coffee pot on and rummaging through Lance’s scarily bare fridge. He manages to find eggs and some sort of plant based alien bacon Hunk had brought back a few times. Lance had fallen in love with it and so Hunk kept him well supplied. 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. He closes the fridge and the dark house is only lit by Kosmo’s faint glow. He’s sitting at the bottom of the stairs, his head laying on the bottom stair and his ears laid back. He makes a pathetic sight and Keith calls quietly to him, he already feels alone in the house as is. A dark ugly feeling that makes him feel shaky, and antsy. 

Kosmo trots over and Keith scratches his ears in apology, he stays close though. Licking at Keith’s leg every once and awhile. It was odd but Keith let him do it, it was for both of their comforts.

“Keep quiet, don’t go upstairs and don’t break anything,” Keith tells him with a firm finger. Kosmo just looks at him with a dopey smile, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Keith glares at him but goes back to making breakfast.

Things start going wrong when he realizes he doesn’t know how to make breakfast. The bacon is not the regular pork that Keith had practically lived off of in the desert. It breaks apart and oozes off the griddle. It turns the flame under it green and Keith scrambles to find something to put the fire out with. In the process of reaching for water he knocks the bowl of batter he managed to make off the counter and onto the floor. 

The fire on the stove has gotten dangerously bigger, Keith can see the eggshells in the spilled batter. Then Kosmo comes prancing into the kitchen, fluff in his fur and a vase clamped tightly between his teeth. It’s spilling water and pink flowers across the floor.

Keith’s eyes widen, “Kosmo! No! Bad! Drop the vase!” he lunges for the wolf who evades him with insulting ease, teleporting onto Lance’s nice little table and knocking over the vase that rests there as well. Keith lunges again and Kosmo hops away tail wagging in mirth.

“Kosmo! Kosmo come on! You’re doing exactly what I told you not too!” he manages to grab the vase and then it becomes a tug of war against Keith’s galra strength and Kosmo’s cosmic powers.

They knock the rest of Keith’s failed attempt at breakfast onto the floor, and Keith ends up with a cup of flour poured over his head. He can’t see but he can feel Kosmo getting the upper hand, so he tackles the wolf. 

“What are you doing in my kitchen?”

They stop mid roll, and Keith blinks up in horror and shame at Lance. His throat goes dry at the sight of Lance’s bare chest and low hanging faded blue pajama pants. His hair was ruffled and pulled up in spikes, his eyes wreathed in dark shadows, and rimmed in red.

Keith scrambles up and Kosmo drops the vase still clutched in his jowls.

“I, uh. I,” Keith stammers but then Lance is laughing. Doubling over and leaning to the side to brace himself on his wrecked table. Tears are streaming down his face, and  _ oh,  _ his marks are glowing brilliant blue.

“Lance?” Keith croaks, and even though he’s covered in a flour and dog slobber, Lance hauls him into a hug. He smells soft and clean straight out of bed, warm from his covers. 

“You’re covered in flour and my kitchen looks like a tornado went through here,” Lance’s words are breathless as he laughs against Keith’s shoulder. 

Keith can’t help but smile and rock where they stand. It feels good to hold Lance, to feel the heaving against his chest from laughter and not sobs. 

When Lance pulls back he reaches up to Keith’s hair ruffling a hand through it and making flour rain down onto his shoulders. Lance’s marks still glow as he giggles, “You need a shower.”

Lance looks down at Kosmo next who had been sitting like a well behaved dog that he refuses to be for Keith. He looks up at Lance with admiration in his golden eyes. Keith scowls at him.

“Don’t let him fool you. This is all his fault.”

Lance ignores him and coos to Kosmo pressing kisses to his nose. Keith crosses his arms over his chest and sticks his tongue out at his wolf. Kosmo’s tail thumps against the ground and Keith swears he smirks.

“Seriously though,” Lance says as he stands back up, “What are you doing here. I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for a few weeks.” his marks aren’t glowing anymore. Keith looks down and around at the mess he’s made of Lance’s kitchen.

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone today. I figured I could come and make breakfast for you and then maybe just help you a little bit, but I don’t know how to make breakfast. Clearly.” Keith finishes lamely gesturing around at the mess. 

“Yes, clearly.” Lance’s eyes sparkle when Keith braves looking up again. 

“I’ll clean it up! I swear I didn’t mean to come in and wreck your house.” Keith says and Lance laughs again, easy and soft.

“It’s okay. It’s actually kind of sweet. No one has ever broken into my house to make me breakfast before.” Lance grins and brushes past him. He picks up the vase Kosmo had dropped, scooping up trampled juniberries. Keith cringes and sends a glare at his wolf. He follows Lance picking up the bowl of batter he’d knocked off the counter.

Lance wrinkles his nose at the sticky substance, “Keith what was that supposed to be?”

“Pancake batter,” Keith grumbles and Lance bites his lip against a smile.

“Keith, what did you do to my bacon?” Lance laughs picking up the shriveled charred pieces. They had gotten the floor clean with the help of Kosmo, and Lance had placed his vase in the sink before moving on to the stove.

“It doesn’t cook like meat!” Keith defended snatching the piece from Lance’s fingers and throwing it in the trash. Lance is laughing at him again, and he really can’t find it in himself to care. At all.

“That’s because it isn’t meat babe” Lance says, scooping the rest up. The pet name freezes Keith where he stands, but Lance goes on like nothing happened. Keith shakes himself and turns away. 

They get the kitchen cleaned and then move onto the living room. Kosmo hadn’t done too much damage, but the pillows that had been on the couch are scattered around the floor and of course the carpet is wet from the water in the vase.

“Let me go get a shirt, and then I’ll make coffee,” Lance says.

“Or don’t,” it slips out of Keith’s mouth before he can stop it. Lance stares at him with an eyebrow climbing up to his hairline. “I-I mean, you don’t have to! Today’s a rough day you don’t have to! I c-can make coffee!”

Lance is smirking at him, he saunters towards Keith. He stops so close to Keith he can see the tiny freckles that rest under the larger ones. He leans forward and presses his lips close to Keith’s ear. His cheeks burn and his breath hitches. 

“Are you sure about that?” he whispers, “You don’t seem very competent in the kitchen sweetheart.”

Keith huffs and pushes him away, “I can make coffee Lance.”

Lance cackles, “Then why didn’t you? You know if you wanted to help me out you could have given me my morning caffeine.” Lance turns in his heel and heads towards the stairs, “I have to go take my meds anyways. Don’t break my coffee machine!”

Keith watches him go, the jovial flustered feeling that had been growing in his chest shrivelling and dying. He feels disgusted with himself, what is he doing? He came here to offer Lance help while he deals with the fact that Allura was lost today. He needs to get a grip.

Kosmo peers around the wall at him and Keith sends him a glare lacking heat. He ruffs his fur and flicks his ear as he walks back into the kitchen.

“Thanks a lot bud.”

The coffee machine is, thankfully, very simple to use, and Keith spends most of the time Lance is upstairs looking for mugs. He finds two simple white mugs, sets them on the table and then leans on the counter watching the coffee drip into the pot. Kosmo lays at his feet, his tail thumping the ground every once and awhile.

“Ah, good. My kitchen is still intact.” 

Keith looks up and shakes his head fondly. Lance hadn’t put on a shirt just put on a soft blue robe. 

“I told you I could make coffee.” Keith says, he turns back to look at it. Partly to check on it and partly because he isn’t sure he’ll survive looking at Lance anymore.

“Keith?”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.”

Keith turns his head back around, he opens his mouth to answer when Lance grabs his face and pulls him down. Their lips meet frantically and messily, teeth clanking. Keith’s breath gets caught in his throat.

He pushes Lance away.

“W-what are you doing?” he touches the tips of his fingers to his lips. Lance wraps his arms around himself, dropping his head.

“I-I just want to forget.” he looks up and Keith can see the tears in his eyes. Lance reaches out to him, grabbing his shirt, “Help me forget?”

It hurts.

It’s agony.

It’s like a bullet lodging itself in Keith’s heart.

He grabs Lance’s wrists and gently prys his fingers away from his shirt. 

“Okay. I will, but not like that. We’ll both regret it.”

Lance’s eyes are so fractured Keith can hardly stand to look at them. So he looks away, turns back to the coffee and ours it into the mugs. He stirs vanilla creamer into Lance and sugar into his own. He turns to Lance handing him a mug. Lance cradles it in his palms and Keith gently takes his arm to lead him back into the living room.

“You can lean on me if that’ll help,” Keith says when sink onto the couch. Lance leans heavily on him, staring at the table that used to have the vase on it. Keith focuses on his drink.

Lance finally breaks after a few minutes, his shoulders shaking and his head tipping forward. Keith takes both mugs and sets them on the coffee table. He gathers Lance in his arms, pulling him into his lap, pressing his face into the junction between his shoulder and neck.

“I want her back!” Lance wails, “ I don’t want anything else. I want her back!”

“I know,” he murmurs, his eyes sliding closed as he rocks them, “I know Lance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean it's November?? I call bullshit. Y'all lying.


	21. Day 25~ Long Distance

Keith’s frame is washed in the purple light from his screen, backed in dark shadows that are mirrored under his eyes. He’s wrapped in Lance’s jacket, bundled against the chill that Lance knows permeates the air of the Blade’s base. He looks sick and tired and Lance talks, like he always does. To work his own anxieties out of his mind and to fill the space that Keith’s exhaustion leaves. 

“Keith,” he finally says, softly. He had gotten a laugh out of Keith about fifteen minutes ago, but since then he had been quietly listening to Lance talk. “Keith are you okay?”

He had learned a lot about Keith since they started this tentative thing. This thing so fragile both were terrified of breaking it. They hadn’t seen each other in person for months. Lance hadn’t kissed Keith in months, hadn’t held him, but he knows Keith loves him and that coupled with the everyday calls, and text messages was enough for him right now.

Keith shrugs his eyes falling and with them Lance’s heart. “You can tell me Keith, whatever it is. You can tell me.” It scares Lance to say that. What if Keith finally tells him he doesn’t feel anything for him anymore.

Keith’s shoulders shake minimally and Lance hopes it’s from the cold and not tears. He’s too far away to properly comfort him.

“I miss you.”

Lance jerks a little where he sits, and his stomach drops out with a feeling for pure sadness and desperation. Keith’s voice had shaken with the tiny proclamation.

“Oh baby. I miss you too. Everyday I miss you.” Keith still won’t look at him, and Lance is sure that the tremble in his back is not from the cold. Lance shifts closer to his camera as if that would somehow allow him to be closer to Keith. “Keith? Can you look at me? I feel like there’s something else you want to say.”

Keith lifts his head, there aren’t any tear tracks on his face and Lance wishes there was. Wishes that Keith felt safe enough to actually let himself cry.

“W-what if the distance gets to be too much for you Lance? W-what if one day you wake up and realize I’m not worth it?” Keith chokes a little, his sleeve covered hands coming up to wipe at his eyes before any tears can fall. “What if this isn’t enough?” the, what if I’m not enough, goes unsaid but Lance heard it anyways.

“Keith! How can you even think that?!” Lance cries, he’s way too close to the camera now, but he doesn’t care to fix it.

Keith shrugs helplessly again, “You meant so many people Lance. You have so much going for you. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

Lance doesn’t know where this came from, of why Keith is feeling this way, but he needs to find a way to fix it. “I don’t want anyone but you Keith.”

Keith shakes his head, “Why though?”

Lance could go on a rant about all the reasons he loves Keith. He could write a novel, he could wax poetry. 

“Because you’re beautiful, and strong, and care so much about your family. You taught me to love myself and that I have value, and Keith, this is enough. You are enough any way I can have you. We’re in the middle of a war, even if we were with each other everyday, we would have to make sacrifices. I’m not going to get bored of you, that’s absurd.”

Keith's eyes are red rimmed and puffy but Lance is just glad he can see them again, “I-I just feel like I’m not giving you as much as you deserve, and some days I miss you so much I physically  _ ache _ .” Keith clutches the green fabric of Lance’s jacket right above his heart and Lance knows what he means. 

“Keith, this is enough. I love our calls, just as much as I would love coming and sitting in bed with you at the end of the day. You’re giving me so much, much more than you realize.”

Keith smiles shakily at him, and his eyes are wet, “You give me a lot too. Sometimes you’re the only thing that gets me through the day. I-I don’t want to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me Starlight. A few light years isn’t enough to get rid of me.”

Tension rolls off of Keith’s shoulders and he sits back a little bit, “I’m sorry.”

Lance waves a hand at him, “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me, but what brought this on?”

Keith sighs, “I just was thinking I guess.”

“Mmmm, dangerous,” Lance smirks and Keith’s smile gets a little bigger.

“Yes.”

They fall into comfortable silence. Keith looks like he’s close to nodding off and a quick look at the time tells Lance that he should probably go to sleep too.

“When’s the next time I get to see you?” Lance asks quietly, hoping he didn’t make a mistake in asking.

Keith debates for a little, “Does the name Naxzela ring any bells?”

Lance lit up, “Yes! Yes it does, that’s our next big mission. I think I even remember saying something about the blade aiding us or something.”

Keith grins, “So I guess I’ll see you in less than a month.”

Lance can’t help himself, and though it’s stupid, he presses his lips up against the screen. He hears Keith laugh softly, but the shuffle of blankets and the familiar sound of his jacket mean that Keith has copied his movements.

“Can’t wait to do that in person,” Lance says. Keith laughs again and Lance feels like everything is going to be okay.

“Me too, I’ll see you at Naxzela Lance.”

  
  
  



	22. Day 30~My Choice

It was late at night, under flickering street lamps, in the sand of a trash littered beach, where they would meet. Keith smelling like cigarette smoke and Lance smelling like cheap cologne that wasn’t his own.

It’s the same every night. Lance will walk down to the beach, swimming in his huge ratty coat ,and wait with his hands in his pockets and his tennis shoes in the water. He’d watch the silent peer until the faint red glow would appear that meant Keith. A cigarette hanging from his lips.

Lance plucks it from his lips every night, takes a long drag and blows the smoke out to sea watching it fade into the still water. They pass it back and forth, their smoke becoming one. 

Eventually they sit, in sand littered with wrappers and bottles, and other trash. Lance leans back on his hands and studies Keith. He’s hurt every night. In some way or another. A bruise on his jaw, a split lip, a swollen purple eye. It’s just the way it is.

Keith does the same, looking over Lance’s long lean body that curls against the cold that comes off the sea. He looks at his shaggy hair, long overdue for a cut, looks at his clothes riddled with holes, looks at his skin, marred by large love bites. Looks away.

They normally don’t talk much, and they both have agreed on Lance’s words the third night they had found each other on the beach sharing a stale tasting cigarette.

“We’re both too fucked up to find regular company.” Lance had drawled, laying in the sand, smoke falling from his lips, his hair tickling Keith’s thigh. 

Keith agreed.

Something had changed, over the course of the nights. Lance had cried, staring hard away from Keith, a hand wrapped around a bottle of cheap liquor. His eyes were dewy, not just from tears but from the alcohol burning through his veins. His sun kissed kiss looked paper thin and dull under the streetlamp, he looked like he was dying. Like he was ready, finally ready. Keith broke an unspoken rule.

He’d fallen into the sand, his body aching from the bruises lining his ribs, and he drew Lance into his arms. Held him against the cold, and let him cry, trying to blot out the smell of that cologne with the cigarette he lit. 

He thought he’d ruined everything, as he held Lance and his cold dead heart throbbed with red passion. As he spoke softly into Lance’s ear all the words he deserved to hear. As he cursed whoever had made him cry as bitterly as he had. He thought he’d ruined it all.

Their kisses taste like smoke, occasionally laced with liquor. Lance’s hands will wander and Keith will grab them, hold them tight between their chests, lay his lips against him. Try to show him that love is more than lust.

Lance seemed like a new person at times, laughing up at the grimy sky and twirly in the filthy waves. He dances on the creaking boards of the peer, pulling Keith along with him. Warmth tumbled back through his body, real warmth. Not the artificial loll created by alcohol or the temperamental ember that burns on the tip of a cigarette. Real warmth, living and breathing, and encompassing. So he kisses Keith with another man’s lust already laid against his skin. Letting his warmth fill him. It’s selfish.

“I want you Lance,” whispered against his hair, Keith’s arms wrapped tight around his waist. Lance leans back against him, sinking into his warmth, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I want you too,”

They’re both selfish.

Keith inhales sharply, it catches in his throat and his voice is little more than a rasp, “ I want to take you away from this place. I want to find what good life might have to give. I want you to be happy.”

But Lance has nowhere to go and Keith has nowhere to take him.

Lance thinks he might be crying, by the way his voice cracks and pitches. Lance is crying too. He strokes Keith's hair, as shaggy and unclean as it is, “Wanting things is easy. Getting them is hard. Just,” Lance voice hitches thinking about never seeing Keith again, “J-just stay. Don’t leave me.” it’s desperate and Lance thinks he might go insane. Keith squeezes around his waist tighter.

“Never. Never,” he says it over and over again, rocking Lance in his arms. Says it over and over again until the sea has it memorized and says it back in the push and pull of the waves.

It’s terrifying.  _ Love _ . In such a dark world, the dancing blues and burning reds that spill around them are terrifying. Neither can stop it, neither want to stop it, but never will it be more than kisses that taste like cigarettes, and longing touches that feel like sunny days.


	23. Day 31~ Halloween

The taste of caramel and cinnamon lay sticky in Keith’s mouth, the couch is warm and soft, and Lance is a heavy weight against his side. It’s nice, in their candle lit living room. Keith had turned off the movie Lance had begged him to watch after he had looked down and found Lance asleep against him.

He couldn’t help the all encompassing feeling love that had shot through his bones. Lance’s hair danced gold and copper and brown in the candle light. His sweater is bunched at his wrists, his feet were curled one on the couch and one off. They’re wrapped in spiderweb socks. They glow in the dark which Lance had made sure he knew. The fluorescent blue scales Lance had painted on his cheeks were smudged by little fingers that had pressed against them. He looks content and warm, happy, and that made Keith happy.

They had done candy this year, like they have for the past three years. Lance goes all out. Decorating the yard, carving pumpkins and sitting out on the porch with a plastic cauldron filled with neighborhood favorites. Keith sits out there with him for a few hours, enduring the little kid's stares and loud whispers into Lance’s ear.

“Your husband looks like a vampire Mr. Lance.”

Lance will grin and do nothing to sway them. He just looks over at Keith with mirth in his eyes.

“I promise he doesn’t bite, and I’m pretty sure he has the butterfingers.”

Lance winks at him over the kids heads as they stand and stare at him. Keith schools his features and reaches down for his grocery bag, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He holds the bag open and waits for one of the little ones to get the courage to peer inside. He worries that his awkward presence will drive them away, but one little boy steps forward. His plastic armor costume clinking together as he shuffles across the porch.

“I’m not afraid of Mr. Keith. He got my ball for me when it was in the street.”

The look Lance gives him is one of pure adoration and it makes him blush up to his ears. The little boy steps forward and looks into the bag, reaching in with a little hand in to claim his prize. Keith smiles at him half because he’s cute and half because he still can’t look up at Lance.

“What are you dressed up as?” Keith thought he was a storm trooper at first but the accents and shape of the armor are all wrong. Red on the shoulders, elbows and knees, with a swooping red V across the breast plate. The little boy draws himself up proud.

“I’m a paladin Mr. Keith. I protect the universe.”he looks so proud.

“You’d make a wonderful defender of the universe. You’re very brave.”

The little boy looks even prouder. He tucks his candy bar safely into his goody bag and toddles off the porch with balance altered steps. He waves at Keith before reaching for his mother's hand to drag her to the next house over.

After all of the little kids have gone, and before the next wave, Lance gets up and walks over to him. He looks down at him, with a smile so soft Keith doesn’t deserve it.

“I love you Keith,” Lance says, bending down to kiss him. Keith feels ridiculously flustered when Lance pulls away.

“I just gave them candy.” he says weakly. Lance smiles softer, eyes sparkling in the light of their wonky jack-o-lanterns. 

“I know.” Lance says voice gentle.

Keith had gone in after a few more kids had been past. Finding a blanket for Lance and helping himself to the carmel apples that sit on their counter. 

One more wave and Lance had come in, smelling like fall and tossing his empty cauldron onto the kitchen counter. The blanket is wrapped around him and Keith smiles at his smudged make up. 

“Come on,” Lance had said, holding out his hand for Keith to take, “Lets watch Hocus Pocus.”

Keith smiles, running his fingers through Lance’s hair. He loved everything about today. He loves the treats they struggled to make, he loves the children that come by their house, but he mostly loves his eccentric husband. His husband who woke up at dawn and started blasting Halloween music, and allowed himself to relish in all the candy coated fun of Halloween until he'd exhausted himself. Keith loves him so much.

The clock above the now silent TV ticks to midnight and Keith stands, slipping carefully out from under Lance and making his rounds to blow out candles and turn off lights. He comes back to the couch and gathers Lance and his blanket into his arms. Pressing a kiss to Lance’s hair.

Keith carries Lance up to their bedroom and he stirs as Keith puts him down on the bed. Lance’s hands curl into his shirt as he blinks. Keith presses another kiss to his forehead.

“Lay down Lance. I’ll get your makeup off.”

Lance obeys and Keith slips into their bathroom to grab some of Lance’s makeup wipes. He sits on the edge of the bed upon his return and smooths the wipe over Lance’s cheeks clearing away the glitter and blue face paint. Lance opens his eyes and smiles lazily up at Keith as he works. It doesn’t take long and he dumps the wipe into the trash by their bed.

Lance grabs a hold of his hand, pressing kisses to his knuckles and the wedding band on his finger.

“Thank you Keith,” he whispers and his smile is still just as lazy and his eyes are sliding closed.

Keith lays a kiss on his clean cheek with a laugh, “I didn’t do anything, that was all you.” he presses another more firm kiss to the corner of Lance’s mouth, “ I love you.”

He crawls into bed and pulls Lance close. Lance presses himself close, exhaling a happy sigh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are obviously not 31 little stories here, sorry about that. Life got in the way and I did what I could. I really enjoyed doing this and I'm really proud I stuck with it as long as I did. Not to mention it's pretty cool that this evened out to 23 chapters.
> 
> Anyways thank you so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos.
> 
> I do read your comments and I know I haven't replied, it is a little bundle of anxiety in my chest. I love every comment I get so thank you endlessly for them.


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